


Displaced

by UnrealRomance



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Modern Girl in The Commonwealth, Other, modern girl
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2017-06-04
Packaged: 2018-05-30 08:34:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6416458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrealRomance/pseuds/UnrealRomance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, you guys seem to like my Girl-in-Thedas stories-- so why not a Girl-in-Commonwealth story?</p><p>A Girl who plays Fallout 4 creates a new character and goes to bed one night, waking up in her characters body the next morning. In the Commonwealth. Where everyone wants a piece of you and the world itself is deadly.</p><p>So for everyone who likes my modern girl stories, here's one for you with a John Hancock romance at some point. He's the only romance I even consider in that game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slumber Disrupted

**Author's Note:**

> I plan for things to get dark enough and suggestive enough for the Mature rating, though they may get explicit in the future, I'm not sure.

I'm panicking. Just a little.

Gasping and yanking on hair that isn't mine- trying to find the pins of a wig or _something_.

"What. Why." I'm not even really asking, I'm just repeating those words over and over as I walk around my room. Or, no, not _mine_.

My Sole Survivor's room.

I woke up in her bed and her body this morning.

Technically I guess you could say _my_ bed and _my_ body since she looks kinda like me and has my moral compass and...technically I _own_ this place _as_ her.

Wow, my brain hurts.

I groan and pace around the bed, smoothing down the dark tank top my Sole apparently slept in last night. Black tank top, black underwear- I spot the red, rhinestoned leather vest on a nearby chair with her black capris pants. Mine now, I guess.

A pair of nearly knee-high boots sits against the bed and there's a pair of finger-less gloves on the nightstand. I remember that this is the outfit I really liked for my Sole because it fit...

I glance around, looking for it and finding it hanging on a hat hook beside the door. My Cowboy hat. I didn't like how the Minuteman hats looked so I figured I could keep my cowboy until I needed the extra armor points.

But...

"Oh Crap, I haven't killed the Deathclaw yet!" I fall to my knees and groan. "I took too much time exploring Sanctuary and picking up scrap and useless junk!"

I'd gotten the game and played a few hours before bed, cause I didn't have time before then. I was busy studying for college, cleaning my apartment and tending my cat.

"Oh fuck, no one knows I'm gone- who's gonna feed Midnight!?" I panic again, getting up and running around in circles.

And then I hear a tiny _mrow_ in response to her name.

I turn around and head for the doorway, stepping through the open portal and blinking at my cat in the bathroom.

There's Midnight, sitting with her tail curled around her legs, watching me with bright green eyes. She's completely black, which is _why_ she's named Midnight.

"Midnight!" I grin and reach down to pick her up, sighing in relief when she starts rubbing her cheek on my jaw.

I giggle when her whiskers tickle my neck and scratch the back of her head. She purrs and starts kneading my shirt like she does when she's really comfortable. It hurts when her claws catch skin but it's so familiar I don't mind. Though, truly- I didn't really mind at home either.

"Oh wait." I pull back to look into her green eyes with seriousness. "You're a healthy animal. Someone's going to try and eat you."

She _mrow_ 's.

"Codsworth!" I suddenly realize with a grin.

So I go walking into the front room and glance around for the floating robot. "Codsworth!"

"Here I am, mum." He comes floating in the front door with some smoking meat on a slab of metal. "I figured out how to grill Radroach meat, though I'm terribly sorry- I couldn't find any spices!"

I giggle a little at the proper-ness of Codsworth. "This is Midnight." I hold her up as he places the slab of metal on the dining table. "She's my pet. Can you keep an eye on her, make sure no one tries to eat her or something?"

"I would be delighted mum!" One of his metal arms reaches out to pat her on the head. She sniffs the metal with surprising acceptance. "It's been so long since I've cared for something small and helpless that-oh. I'm...my apologies, Mum." His click-y little eyeball is fluttering.

"Apologies for wh-" Oh! My baby was just kidnapped and my husband was just murdered, right! "No need for apologies, Codsworth."

"As you say, mum." He seems relieved. "You were going to explore Concord, weren't you? Would you like me to wrap these up for lunch?"

"Um..." I look down at myself in my tank top and underwear and grimace. "I think maybe that's a good idea. I'm gonna get dressed and try...and get some practice with a...gun. If I can find one."

"You found one yesterday, don't you remember, Mum?" He ticks a bit. "Oh, but yesterday was so stressful, perhaps you've forgotten! It's in your room, in that closet, mum. I put it there when you forgot it in the living area. Can't be without your weapon _here_ , can you?"

"Please Codsworth, you can call me by name." I reach out and pat one of his eye stalks. "And...everything in the past should stay there. If you want to talk about it, I'd be happy to- little mentions of my past...life, won't upset me. I promise."

His arms flutter a little. "I...as milady Valkyrie, says."

Oh, right! That was my Sole's name. It's one of the names Codsworth can actually say in the game, and it sounded awesome so... "Right. Well. I'm gonna go get dressed. Watch Midnight for me. Don't try to force her to do anything, just...watch."

I trot back to my room as he calls an affirmative after me.

Getting dressed is a bit of an affair. Even with everything on, I feel naked. In a video game, armor works differently. In real life, this isn't nearly enough to protect my ass. Sighing in resignation, I pull my cowboy on over my chin-length red hair.

On the upside, when I go in the bathroom and take a gander at myself I look _hot_. Like, my Sole's body is now mine- so I should've expected to have her bodacious ass and sculpted thighs and all- but seriously my body is rockin'. I've never had a rockin' body before. I've always had a muffin top, or been a bit too pudgy in the hips or...well. I'm enjoying this part of being Valkyrie, I guess.

I grab the rifle out of the closet and grimace at it. It's your standard sniper rifle, which I prefer over Shotguns or pistols. Longer range means you're in less danger when you fight, which is preferable to getting hit with tire irons or something.

Though I have a sneaking suspicion that shooting someone in the head will actually kill them now.

Well. Despairing will get me nowhere and being positive might get me some answers- get up and do something- be productive.

I grin and take the gun into the front room. "Codsworth, can you show me how to work this thing? It seems I've forgotten everything I learned yesterday."


	2. Practice and Deliberation (Basically Filler)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is kind of filler, but it has some interaction in there you might like. Enjoy.

Taking my time in Sanctuary may not be wise, but I need to be prepared if I run into an actual fight.

It's about two hours before I remember Dogmeat. I almost don't go and get him, afraid he might chase Midnight. But I remember he was a really smart dog- so I set off for the Red Rocket just to see if it was plausible to _ask_ him not to hurt Midnight and still keep him around.

He was a little starved when I came upon him, and I had to give him one of my Radroach 'steaks' before I brought him home. I didn't want him hungry when he met Midnight, after all.

Turns out I shouldn't have worried. He was so happy to have a new friend he bounced around Midnight in circles and did that thing dogs do when they stick their tails in the air and crouch on their front legs.

Midnight barely acknowledged him, but she wasn't afraid, so I figured it was okay. I instructed Codsworth to keep an eye on them all the same. "And make sure they eat a good meal at least once a day. There's no shortage of radroaches around here, and I'm sure Dogmeat would love to hunt them with you."

"As you say Miss Valkyrie. Oh, we're a family again!" He doesn't even realize what he's said, or maybe he took my words to heart cause he doesn't apologize for that one. He's just really excited to do normal chores again, apparently.

I found some materials that Codsworth was able to turn into pipe bombs and grenades. I even got him some metal shards to put in for shrapnel. Downside is, I have to be in cover to toss them. Which might be hard if I'm having to toss bombs as a last resort.

I practice with the sniper rifle until I can hit some old cans from really far away without missing ten times out of ten.

It isn't so much the aim I'm having problems with, but the kick of the rifle. I've always had pretty good eyesight, and my aim is good enough when I throw softballs and the like- but I've never had a gun in my hands before.

Dogmeat is running around behind me with Midnight, so thank god I don't have to worry about wayward bullets ricocheting and hitting either of them. Codsworth keeps replacing the cans, insisting it's a 'pleasure to serve' when I say I could do it myself.

' _Poor guy just wants to be useful to someone.'_ So I let him pamper me in his own way and stop insisting I can do things. Instead I just say thank you, now.

A couple of times a radroach will show up, or a couple of them. Usually Codsworth and Dogmeat are enough to kill the things, and Midnight disappears until the damn things have been grilled.

I actually _do_ find some seasoning in the houses, though only a few and it's mostly salt and pepper. Still, it perks up the radroach 'steaks' quite a bit. Codsworth was in heaven when I showed them to him, I swear to god.

I decide to stay for a few days in Sanctuary. I won't be any help to anyone anywhere if I'm struggling to reload my rifle and missing shots.

I train with Dogmeat, searching out radroaches to kill- and I even manage find a mangy rabbit. I have Dogmeat capture it and Codsworth and I make a cage for it.

"An irradiated rabbit?" Codsworth pokes at the cage. "What use will it serve besides dinner?"

"If I can find some more, we can farm them. They'll have lots of rabbits in a short amount of time, so long as they aren't sterile..." I tap my chin and crouch next to the metal box with holes drilled in it. "Sorry little one. Didn't mean to freak you out so bad. They eat grass and clover and the like."

"I'll be sure to find something palatable for the little thing, then." Codsworth flies off to search, calling out for Midnight- who, to my surprise, actually follows after him.

' _Has he been giving her extra meat?'_ I wonder, narrowing my eyes and cupping my chin in my palm. _'He probably has.'_

On the fifth day since waking up, I'm proficient with my sniper rifle and I'm fairly confident in my endurance, since I've been jogging and sprinting around Sanctuary. I'm way more athletic in this body and it's amazing!

So I decide it's time to check out Concord. If Preston and his people are dead, I'll be upset. But there really was no other option if I want to survive out here. Plus, I don't really know the guy. The way Fallout is structured, you barely know the people you _romance_ let alone-

Oh. Oh no.

I stop stock still just outside Sanctuary with Dogmeat at my ankles.

He whines and sits next to my feet, pawing my thigh as if asking what's wrong. His nose pokes my hand.

I pet him distractedly and kneel to hug him around the neck. I just remembered a couple of things. For one, that John Hancock, my romance option- is a Ghoul. And he may look...different here. Everything is real here after all, real in a way it wasn't in-game.

I'd like Hancock no matter what, he's...well, he's _him_. But if I show interest and discover I can't handle the way he looks? God, I'd feel like dirt, not to mention how _he'd_ react.

So just...stay away from Hancock unless I need his help. That sounds reasonable, right?

I grimace and stand up, walking into the Red Rocket with Dogmeat at my heels. _'Just having him around as a friend will probably be enough to really lift my spirits once I meet him...assuming he even exists- or that he's the same person personality-wise.'_

Fingers crossed he doesn't end up being more stabbity than usual and doesn't just cut my throat when he first meets me.


	3. Crazy Plans and Unlikely Allies

I've been mulling something over the whole way to Concord. It might possibly be dangerous and get me killed, but on the off chance I don't have to fight a Deathclaw, I'll give it a shot.

So I approach Concord with stealth, and keep an eye out for any sewer entrances. Because I remember where the Deathclaw comes from.

But there's a lot of activity, a lot of gunfire and I'm pretty sure if I want anyone in there to survive till I can figure out the next part of my plan, I'll have to snipe some Raiders.

So after finding a perch down the road, setting up my rifle and maybe...hyperventilating a little, I take a look around with the scope.

There's the museum, where Preston and his people are hiding out. They're returning fire through windows at the Raiders on the street- but eventually they'll get rushed. The Raiders are getting too close and they're too confident.

' _They might have surplus ammo on them...'_ Bad news for Garvey if they don't have much, good news for me and Garvey if I can kill them and loot the bodies later.

I bite my lip and aim for a Raider at the back of the pack, scope focused on his head. He's wearing a helmet on top, but the back of his head is partially unobstructed.

I inhale deeply and squeeze the trigger on an exhale.

The shot is loud in _my_ ears, but I'm pretty far away, and they're making a lot of noise anyway. So when the Raider falls, his compatriots keep moving without noticing. As I'd hoped.

Sighing and cracking my neck, I ignore the shaking in my hands and squeeze the trigger again, and again, and again.

Each time a Raider at the back of the pack falls, there's a cheer I can hear going up from the Museum. I don't know if they think _they're_ hitting them, or if they know I'm out there and they're giving me encouragement, but I'm laughing all the same. Quietly and with a broad grin on my face.

This must be how soldiers cope with violence. Find the bright side, the justice in the action and cling to it with all you have. Because the smile and the laughter and the cheering is all that's holding back the realization that I'm killing people.

I know what I'm doing...abstractly. I know I'm helping a group of what is basically refugees escape what are basically bandits- and video games have prepared me for the weird moral quandary of it...but still- I don't really like the idea that it could really hit me later and...well, I just hope I can remain standing when I realize what I've done.

The last Raider falls, and a couple people come out of the front doors to riffle through their pockets.

I slide the rifle onto my back, the strap over my shoulder digging into my skin as I fasten it back in place.

Walking out of the building and sneaking down the street toward the museum, I search for an entrance to the sewers again.

I finally come upon a small side-street with an access. I remember exploring the sewers in-game a couple times, and there's some good stuff down there- I know...

But I still pause and grimace before walking in.

...

It's just as grimy and moist as I'd expected. Dark concrete, vibrant yellow rails around the walkways and of course...

There's a Mirelurk lurking around.

Swallowing hard and creeping up as close as I can without being detected- I halt when it spins around and starts clicking. _'Maybe I could...'_

I pull one of the two radroach steak packages out of one of my pockets and unwrap it. I've got a lot more in my backpack, for...my plan later.

I wave the meat around until the Mirelurk seems to catch the scent. It scuttles toward me and I toss the meat off to the side of the access- it makes a wet noise as it slaps against the concrete and the Mirelurk goes after it with a lot of happy-sounding clicking noises.

I rush as quietly as I can past the Mirelurk as it chews the steak and try not to run headlong into...ah.

There it is.

A large, horned, blue-gray Deathclaw.

It's pacing around under a sewer access, head twitching this way and that as it tries to figure out where the noises are coming from.

Fuck, more Raiders. Have to do this fast, then. _'I can't rush. I just can't waste time.'_

I take a deep breath and take off my rifle and backpack. Reaching into the pack and pulling out a couple of packages, I unwrap the steaks and put the paper back inside.

The Deathclaw is already sniffing around and turning toward me. I have to fight the knee-jerk reaction of throwing the meat at the animal and running away.

It prowls toward me, eyes glowing and yellow. Small growls leave it's throat, low and rumbling. It's stalking me. Or just the meat in my hands, I'm not really sure.

I make a face and take a few slow steps forward, holding up the meat by one end with my pointer finger and thumb of each hand. I stop when I get close enough that I can see details.

The lights around are exposing certain details to my eyes while hiding others. I mean, I see the spiraling on his horns, and the sharpness of his teeth, fangs, whatever they're called- but I can't really see the rest of his face.

He crouches and sniffs the meat, coming close enough to snatch a piece of meat from my right hand. He steps back a few times as he chews, keeping his glowing yellow eyes on me, but turning his gaze upward to the access every few moments.

"Here boy... One more..." I heft the other piece of meat once he's done. Tossing it into the air.

He snatches it out of the air and makes a very contented sounding humming noise. He rips the meat apart in his jaws and swallows, licking his fangs and crouching in front of me again, sniffing _me_ now. Probably wondering why this thing that would usually be shooting metal at it, is instead feeding it.

"That's a good...boy." I reach up with my right hand and try not to cringe.

His skin is smooth but textured like snakeskin or...well, they're supposed to be mutated chameleons, right? I scratch under his chin and his body bows in the same way Dogmeat's does when I do this. That little slope that means, 'good good, more'. It's so adorable even on a giant Deathclaw, I have to giggle.

He nudges my face with his snout and makes a playful snap at my hat.

I push his face away and giggle a little more. "Not my hat! It's hot out there, I need protection from the sun. We're not all incredibly durable giant lizards."

He huffs and nearly blows my hat off, then turns and stalks off toward the access, looking menacing all of a sudden all over again. He's growling at the access, and slowly clambering up the incline, like he wants to rip apart the noise makers.

He does, I know. I've seen him try it.

"Wait." I walk up and unwrap the meat package in my other pocket. "Lookie. You want?"

He turns back and comes after the meat, but I hold it away and hold up my pointer finger to get his attention. "You. Stay. Here."

He grumbles deep in his massive throat and flicks his tongue at the hand holding the meat.

"No no." I step back and gesture for him to follow me. "Stay..."

"There!" I toss the meat back into a room toward the back and he goes racing after it.

I have to hurry up and unwrap a couple more, replacing pack and rifle on my back as I stumble for the room where I threw the meat. I toss the other two pieces and run for the access, secure in the moment that it should keep him occupied.

It's a little slippery, climbing the hill to the access, but I'm able to open it up and actually secure it behind me. Apparently somebody left it unlocked. Hopefully the big guy will stay down there until I figure this next part out.

Because I've popped up in a warzone.

Raiders are approaching the museum again, though they're closer than before. I have to scramble behind some cars and sneak into a storefront to avoid being seen.

I wait for the nearest ones to get a bit further away as I set up in a window and take aim.

I start with the ones at the back again, though after a moment, some of the Raiders take notice of the shots coming from behind and start searching for me.

' _They have a lot more bullets and guns, from the first Raiders- they should be good to mow down the Raiders coming so long as I divide their attention...'_ But if I wait too long, the Deathclaw might pop up and I really don't want to kill the thing. I mean at first, I was just hoping it'd ignore me because I was nice and fed it meat.

Now, I feel kind of bad for killing it in-game in the first place.

So I bite my lip, check my pockets and come up with a pipe bomb and an idea.

...

So. That went as well as I'd expected it to.

I groan and grasp my upper arm, hiding in a storefront with my new Deathclaw buddy, hoping the Raiders are all dead and that the people with Preston in that Museum don't come looking for the Deathclaw that burst out of the sewers after my pipe bomb went off in the midst of a bunch of Raiders.

I'd lured them into an old shop and crept around to the front, throwing the pipe bomb in and taking cover around the corner. I fell against the wall of the opposite building when the concussion hit me. I scraped my arm, though it isn't as bad as getting shot, at any rate.

Funny thing, the Deathclaw came straight _to_ me, hiding around the corner of the building. Flicked his tongue over my face once before getting aggressive again. Like he was worried about me, like he was reassuring me, it was so sweet and so sad it almost broke my heart.

I tried my best to stay between him and the Museum, showing the people there he wasn't attacking me, and was just tearing through the raiders- but a few stray shots hit him in the side.

So I brought him into an abandoned storefront once the dust had settled and started pulling bullets out of his thick leathery hide.

I give him a piece of meat for every few bullets, telling him how good a boy he is, petting him when he whimpers and nudges my shoulder with his great horned head. "I'll get the nasty metal, don't worry. I know, it probably itches like crazy, huh?"

"What the...hell?"

I whip around and immediately put my hands up and move in front of my new buddy's face. "Don't shoot, he's a good boy- stand down." I reach back to pet the Deathclaw when he starts growling ominously. "Back out, slowly. I'll talk through the doorway, yeah?"

Preston Garvey is standing there, rifle trained on my new buddy with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. "Ma'am... I dunno if you hurt...your head or something-"

I snap my arms down and point imperiously at him. "Listen here, _soldier boy_." I enjoy his startlement a bit more than I probably should. "Is this Deathclaw attacking me?"

"Uh." He glances up toward the horned beast. "No?"

"Why should I kill him if I can co-exist with him?" I narrow my eyes at him. "Or are you one of those assholes who shoots first and asks questions later?"

He steps slowly backward and relaxes his grip on his rifle, but not by much. "Well, I'm sorry Ma'am. But every time I've come upon one of those things it's tried to eat me. Begging your pardon."

' _Even being a smart ass he's polite as fuck.'_ I roll my eyes.

"Yeah, well this one isn't." I point up at the subtly growling beast. "He might, if you don't act more friendly."

He swallows harshly and slowly puts his rifle on his back. Face paling, body shaking. I'd almost feel bad if I didn't know I was in the right.

And I _am_.

The Deathclaw makes a rolling chirrup of noise and settles on the floor again, curling into a little ball and yawning.

I pat his side, away from any bullet holes and grin at a gobsmacked Preston Garvey. "See? Tell your people he's a good boy. And tell them if they try to shoot him without reason, I'll shoot their balls and/or boobs off. Depending."


	4. A New Name for a New Friend

I had to introduce my new Deathclaw friend to everyone slowly. Preston had to coax everyone into entering the storefront without any guns on them.

He was a bit growly at first, but got better when I started touching the people at the door and bringing them in by the hand.

Some of them stayed back until it was clear no one was getting mauled.

Mama Murphy walked right up to the thing and squinted at it. "Damnedest thing." She'd muttered.

When everyone got nice and comfortable with him, I led him out and into the museum where he walked around and sniffed everything and everyone until eventually he was...not even remotely frightening anymore.

Especially when he started playing fetch with Mama Murphy.

She tossed a big piece of wood from an old mannequin stand out the window and he pelted out the front door to go after it. He'd bring it right back to that window, too. Didn't even break the 'stick'.

It was surreal even to _me_.

"So..." Preston is staring out the window as the sun sets, that look of gobsmacked awe still on his face. "You tame Deathclaws and snipe Raiders in your down time or are you some kind of...mercenary? We can't really pay anything for the assistance yet-"

I wave that off. "Nah. I just- the Commonwealth's a dangerous place. I figure- the more I do to help bring the danger level down, the safer it'll be in the future. Even if that just means making sure more good people than bad people survive." I sigh and shrug. "If everyone would just stop being assholes and band together in bigger communities with some actual order to things, they'd be so much better off."

"I agree, ma'am...uh...what's your name, ma'am? I'm Preston." He stands sort-of at attention. "Preston Garvey."

"Valkyrie." I grin and thwap his hat. "Fancy duds there. Where'd you get 'em?"

"I'm a Minuteman, ma'am." He clears his throat and really _does_ stand at attention now. Pride radiating from him when he says that. Then, of course- the inevitable drooping when he says the next part. "We were...basically wiped out. There was another with us- but...he got gunned down when the Raiders first showed up. We were on our way to Sanctuary. It's supposed to be abandoned and mostly safe."

"I live there." I grin wider. "With my robot, my cat and my dog."

"Robot?" He blinks with a perplexed look on his face. "You mean a Synth?"

"Mr. Handy, actually." I say. "But Synths outside Institute control aren't so bad, you know."

"Outside...what?" Poor guy looks so confused.

"Nevermind." I chuckle and sigh when I feel hot breath on my back. "I guess I should name you."

I turn around and scratch under my Deathclaw's jaw again. And yes. _My_ Deathclaw.

...hey...

"Naming a Deathclaw, god this is bizarre." Preston walks off, scratching his head after pulling off his hat, fanning himself like he's suffering from heatstroke.

Maybe he thinks he is. I snicker a little and lay a kiss on the big beast's snout. "I'll name you Mio. In Spanish it means 'mine'."

He rumbles and nudges me again, hitting my nose a bit hard.

My eyes water and I cough a little. "Oh! A bit hard there. Gentle, be gentle."

He grumble-whimpers in his throat and nudges my stomach, looking up from a crouch at me. Like he's in trouble.

"God, you're cuter than you should be!" I laugh.

"You're a bit less afraid than _you_ should be." Mama Murphy walks up and squints rheumy eyes at me. "There's a halo of light around you. Different than most people's. Brighter, more open."

I tilt my head. "Really?"

"Sure." She nods. "It's almost white, with yellow undertones."

"Well that's...nice, I guess?" I shrug. "Do you think it's safe to move yet?"

"We should be moving now." She chuckles a bit, though it's a little more broken than happy. "Preston is a good boy. Takes care of people. But he ain't the type to be in charge. Deliberates too much, you know."

"I could kind of tell he was soldier when I first saw him, but he does seem..." I glance over at him. "A bit subdued? Submissive, I guess."

"That he is." She sighs. "You want to get back to Sanctuary, we'd all probably feel a lot better travelin' with you and your Deathclaw. Mio, was it?" She reaches up to scratch around one of his horns and he _loves_ the attention.

"I'll see what I can do. Maybe Preston will like the idea." As odd as the request might seem to him, he's sensible...right?


	5. Ascending Awareness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I want to warn everyone since I don't know if there are any triggers in this story or not. I'm pretty sure there aren't, but this is going to seem very...well.
> 
> The rampant fluffiness was there for a reason, but it's gonna halt pretty quick after this chapter.

Mio and I escort the entire delegation of settlers to Sanctuary. Preston is still a bit suspicious of Mio, even after all the time he's spent with him sitting around the Museum and sleeping beside me last night.

He keeps glancing back at Mio, who's bounding around behind the settlers, playing fetch and chasing radroaches and bloatflies that get too close.

I sidle up next to him and grin when I catch him glancing back again and he realizes I saw. He clears his throat and looks straight ahead. If his skin weren't so dark, I'd probably be able to see him blushing. I can almost swear I _can_.

"Something wrong, Preston?" I ask.

"I just..." He stops himself from glancing back again. "I don't know how smart it is to take a territorial animal into the settlement."

"He's territorial all right." I grin. "We keep giving him meat and treating him nice, we become _his_. Which means, anyone attacking our settlement will have to go _through_ him to get to us." I pout. "Though I'd rather we didn't have to use him at all for that. He's such a big sweetheart. Or well..." I huff and cross my arms. "He's a sweetheart so long as no females are around, I guess."

The image of a Deathclaw ripping apart one of my characters pops into my head and immediately seems to just...dissolve...

What was I thinking about?

"You got interesting choice in pets, ma'am." He says. "I'd have stuck with the dog and the cat."

Oh, right!

"Dare to be different, that's my motto." And doesn't _that_ just figure? I never realized before how similar my motto is to...well, Hancock's way of life. I sigh.

"Somethin' wrong, Ma'am?" He's got sharp eyes, that Preston.

I grin as the Red Rocket truck stop comes into view. "Just good to be home is all."

...

I groan and grumble when the knock on my front door comes. Because I know it means waking up and getting out of bed and I don't _wanna_.

After spending all day yesterday walking back to Sanctuary and helping the settlers refurbish the old homes in the area with scrap- plus introducing all the animals to each other and keeping them all from killing each other- well. Keeping Mio from killing Dogmeat and Midnight- I just wanna sleep a couple days. Is that too much to ask?

"Miss Valkyrie, young master Garvey is at the door- shall I tell him to expect you or ward him away?" My wonderful Mr. Handy asks me from the doorway.

"Ugh." I groan. "Tell him I'll be out in an hour."

"As you say, mum." He floats out of my doorway and back toward the living area.

I roll on my back, stretch nice and long until my back and hips crack _so_ nicely.

I've been half-convinced for a couple days that I'm dreaming and that one of these days I'll wake up and just...be back in my apartment.

' _It's not like my parents will think it's weird I've disappeared, they'll probably just assume the same thing they did when I moved out. That I'm on drugs or dating an older man or any number of other dumbass things.'_

One infuriating thing about my parents is how _old fashioned_ they _both_ are. My mother thinks women should raise children, cook food for their family and defer to their husbands.

My father thinks the same thing, but makes my mother work when he's too lazy to get out of his chair for months at a time.

It's a caustic, abusive relationship they have and I was so sick of it- I moved out at sixteen. I'm twenty now and still...well, I _was_ still working off the debt for my first degree. My first degree was writing and now I'm working on my Psychology degree-or...well I guess I _was_.

...not much use in the Commonwealth, I'm guessing.

It's just so irritating that they told the entire family I was doing drugs, sleeping around and had stolen from them before I left. My aunt actually ranted at me in the supermarket for a good five minutes when we ran into each other before I was able to shut her up and ask what the hell she was talking about.

I had to take her back to my apartment and show her my degree and college bills just so she'd _believe_ me.

So yeah, not gonna miss that. But this world is so dangerous I could die at any time. What happens if I'm a little too slow, or a little too nice or-

My heart thumps against my ribs and my eyes seem to fuzz over...what was I?

Whatever. It doesn't matter.

I sigh explosively and roll out of bed, heading for the bathroom and the bathtub that Codsworth has already filled with water. "Thanks, Codsy!"

"I thought a nice hot bath would be in order, Mum." He hovers in the doorway and floats over to blast the water with a good strong stream of fire from his torch. "May only be lukewarm."

"Good enough for me." I pat his eye stalk. "Just make sure no one comes in while I'm bathing."

"Yes, Miss Valkyrie!" He putters off like a bot on a mission.

I giggle and take off the tank top, underwear and bra I wore to bed last night. It's a sports bra so I barely noticed it was there- still maybe I should take it off before bed tonight.

I settle in the bath water with a sigh. Not because it's especially warm or relaxing, but because it's _water_ and I'm about to get _clean_. Even a little bit cleaner than right now would be preferable. I've got dirt in very unpleasant places. And my arm is still scraped up, so I'd like to be sure it's not infected.

Scrubbing my scabs and grimacing when a few dried blood bits flake off, I check the coloration and smell of my little 'injury'. Seems normal.

Thank god. We have limited medical supplies and some of the settlers had needed them, badly.

For just a moment my arm pulses with a deep ache and the thought of infection and amputation overwhelms me. And then I'm blinking water out of my eyes and wondering what the hell that was.

After washing my hair and getting out, I wash my tank top, underwear and bra with the bar of soap Codsworth was able to trade with the settlers for. Which means I have to hang them all up over the towel rod and wait for them to dry, while walking around buck naked.

Not having a hot shower every morning is going to wear on me, I can already tell. It's one of those small pleasures I never exactly took for _granted_ \- but I still always thought was just a hotel stay or bill payment away.

So I leave the bathroom and go looking in 'my' bedroom for more clothes and rummage in the dresser for something that isn't a sundress or frilly in any way. I end up hunting through what must have been Nate's dresser- and find what I'm looking for. I gave up on looking through Nora's drawers before I left to find Preston, I mean- I had enough clothes, really.

...and it seems like this place doesn't quite _belong_ to me, I guess- so I didn't want to touch Nate's things before. Wait. What did I name my husband?

I frown and scrunch up my face while I'm standing there...I didn't even remember Valkyrie until Codsworth told me about it...

Not important. Right?

I get dressed in a crisp white and gray ensemble, complete with a pair of white ballet flats I find in the closet- and go into the kitchen to find something to eat. I took so much food with me because I anticipated feeding settlers, not because I had the idea to befriend a Deathclaw right from the start- still, I depleted that supply.

' _How did I end up doing that anyway?'_ Was it the Mirelurk's reaction to food that gave me the idea? Did I have the idea before then?

Everything is very out of sync. I don't know if I had that idea before getting to the sewers or after-why is my head so fuzzy?

Ugh! I shake my head and walk into the kitchen, rubbing my temples as I search for food.

In the fridge, there are a few radroach steaks labeled 'breakfast', 'lunch' and 'dinner'.

Picking up 'breakfast', I unwrap the steak and rip into it with gusto. God, I'm hungry. Too much activity- I should've saved a steak or two for myself instead of givin' 'em all to Mio. Even with the salt and pepper, they're still kind of...gamey. If I had the choice I'd never eat a radroach steak again- but I don't. Not really.

' _If the radroaches ever wise up and get out of the Sanctuary area, I might starve.'_ The thought fizzles there for a moment, I'm aware of it-and then it's gone again.

I must still be tired.

Walking around my living area and taking stock of what I've got, I make mental changes to the layout.

The couch is a bit thin and uncomfortable looking. If I get some fabric, some stuffing from other, broken couches maybe... I could puff it up. I could even have Codsworth cut the couch in half, get another couch and cut the middle out of it...make my own makeshift U-shaped sectional. Push it up against the wall against the window, maybe move the dining table into the space between it and the kitchen counters...

"Alright, mum?" Codsworth is hovering next to me.

I startle a bit at his appearance, and grin sheepishly. "I'm good, Codsy. Has it been an hour yet?" How long was I spaced out?

"It has been forty-six minutes since I woke you, miss. I believe young master Garvey was quite agitated." He says.

I sigh. "I'll go now, then. My clothes in the bathroom need to dry, if you can help-"

"I'll get right on it, mum!" He hovers off. "I'll clean your shoes as well, they're _quite_ muddy."

I smile at the retreating bot and walk to the front door.


	6. Emerging for Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So.
> 
> I warned you about this, right?

"FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT FUCK!" Screaming and running away are not good strategies when it comes to feral ghouls, I _know_ this. Intellectually.

Instinctively all I know is 'Danger. Run away.'

Tenpines bluff had a ghoul problem, and Preston wanted to see what I was made of. He said there might be three or four of 'em and that I could probably pick off two with my sniper rifle before they noticed me.

He was right about the sniper rifle, but wrong about how many there were.

I figured, it must not be that much harder than killing raiders- except Ghouls run up at you. And Preston gave me a pistol and a knife in my boot, so I thought I was covered.

So now, I'm fleeing an entire hoard, tossing pipe bombs behind me as I run to slow down or kill as many as possible.

Little bits of rock and fallen branches are propelled all around me, and I can feel some impact my back, butt and thighs with some force. I barely feel them, so I figure it must not be that bad.

I climb up into a tree like Midnight climbing drapes and pull out my pistol, twisting backwards to shoot into the face of a shrieking ghoul.

The shrieking and flailing I could handle, but-the angry, tortured expressions on their faces...

I shoot them as they try to climb up the tree behind me, climbing higher and higher to avoid their grasping hands.

I sigh heavily and drop one of my shrapnel grenades.

There isn't much I can do besides swing around the other side of the tree and squeeze tight to the trunk, holstering my pistol. The explosion is loud and shakes the trunk I'm holding on to. Not much, but it vibrates and that kind of terrifies me for a second. _'What if I blew the tree trunk apart!?'_

But after a few moments free of vibration or shrieking or any kind of noise whatsoever- I peek out from behind the trunk and take a deep breath at the carnage below me.

Which was _not_ a good idea. Because now I smell burnt flesh and taste choking black smoke.

I cough and choke and gag all the way down the tree until I can stagger across the ground to another tree nearby. I keep my eyes on the bodies at the bottom of the tree, they might be stunned or faking.

I almost throw up a few times, but I have a lot of practice forcing it down and breathing through it. Living in a house where your mother doesn't have a maternal bone in her body means you get yelled at for puking-even in the toilet.

I had the kind of mom who just cared if you _looked_ happy. For the neighbors.

Breathing slowly and standing up, still leaning back against a tree- I survey the immediate area and draw the pistol Preston gave me, again.

I have to put a bullet between the eyes of any semi-intact ghouls I find. First reason- they might get up and attack me. Second reason- no one should have to live like that.

I always knew Feral Ghouls were Ghouls whose brains were cooked by radiation- but the reality is less 'zombies' and more 'pod people who can't be cured'. They're still alive, but they don't know who they are or really what they're doing. Something moves, they jump on it- something makes a sound, they jump on it.

What kind of life _is_ that?

I feel a whole new appreciation for non-feral Ghouls who are terrified of ending up that way. I kind of _get it_ now. It isn't just about being afraid of going crazy and hurting people, it's...losing everything that you are and becoming something mindless and...

"I'm so sorry." I holster my pistol and walk back toward the two settlers, holed up in their shack.

Hopefully they'll have somewhere I can crash for a few hours before I head back to Sanctuary. I'm exhausted.

I only get about fifteen steps before the images begin to overcome me and I'm bent over next to a tree again, this time violently expunging everything from my stomach.

' _Damn it. I thought I was going to make it.'_

It isn't just the ghouls, or the fact that I had to shoot them. It's...god, it's everything.

The beautiful rose colored glasses I've been wearing have melted off my face and now I see the awful blood red and vomit green for what they are.

I stumble as I try to get up and push myself through the trees until I'm in a fairly isolated spot. I remember pulling the trigger on the Raiders, feeling justified and knowing I was helping someone. But now all I see is the red.

The red and the gray and the...god.

I dry heave when there's nothing left in my stomach. I know this is a reality. When you're in the commonwealth, you kill people. Just to survive.

But some part of me wanted to believe it was still just a game.

I guess this is as far as that stretches.

...

The settlers actually come looking for me once the dust settles, and only find me because I left a trail of blood behind me.

I'm fuzzy and dizzy and weak when they find me. Turns out those rocks and branches that hit me in the back had actually torn through my paltry armor and shredded the skin there.

The woman helped undress me once they got me to a broken down house behind their shack.

She uses some boiled water to rinse the blood and dirt and etcetera from my skin and wounds. Then she wraps me up in torn up pieces of cotton sheets.

I'm in so much pain I don't even think to question her poking and prodding me into the positions she needs. I'm so vulnerable and weak, I could be brutalized or raped or killed right now and I wouldn't realize what was going on until it was over.

I feel a slight pinch in the bend of my elbow and open my eyes to see what she's doing.

It's an injector for something...

Ooooh. I almost fall over when the drug hits my system. The pain is gone but now I just want to pass out.

She stands up and hauls me over her shoulder, being gentle about it but dropping me on the one bed in the broken down house and shoving me over on my stomach so I won't drown in my own sick, I think. What other reason is there?

Oh right, my back.

I almost forgot...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how was that? I wanted to convincingly portray someone with severe dissociation. Did I get it right?


	7. Recollection

Preston got called out to the settlement by one of the settlers, though I don't know which one went for him.

He took one look at my back and grimaced. "Geez...I'm sorry, I was sure there were only a few."

"Horde." I croak into the pillow under my head. "All dead." My body shudders from my feet up to my head. The med-x or whatever is wearing off and I'm beginning to feel the pain flare up again in places.

"That's good. You can just relax and heal a couple days before we go back to Sanctuary. I'll get medical supplies." I can barely hear him. He walks out of the house in a hurry-of course.

Everything around me is a bit out of place. My vision is blurry and out of focus, my ears are making everything echo too loud or whisper too soft...and god...

I clench my hands around the edges of my dingy little bed and scream into the mattress. It hurts!

It seems like days go by before Preston comes back with the supplies. I float in a world of pain and misery, and an odd sense of juxtaposition. Like I am inside my body, but also above, below and beside it. Like my awareness is stretching out from my body in every direction...

He injects me with med-x before he starts checking my injuries and re-bandaging them. It comes as a sort of a shock, as I didn't even notice he was there when he grabbed my arm.

It makes me so sleepy, but before I can fall asleep a wave of uncomfortable-ness washes over me and I start crying because I want to move, but I can't move- and I don't want to move but I have to move-it's the most awful, torturous feeling I've ever had in my life.

I'm glad of unconsciousness when it finds me.

It's all darkness and the sounds of gunfire. The sound of a roaring Deathclaw and a shrieking Ghoul, the feeling of claws in my skin and shrapnel ripping through my flesh, tearing me apart.

I can almost feel ice crystals on my skin, then fire and acid and all number of unpleasant, painful things. I don't even feel the pain anymore, but the images of my skin melting off and catching fire and-

I come awake gasping for air and clawing at the mattress underneath me.

"Whoa, it's okay!" Preston is there, hands wrapped around my arms to pull me up far enough to breathe. "Just turn your head to the side, you're alright."

I turn my head and he sets me back down, patting my shoulder where I'm uninjured and trying to soothe me as I sob and breathe in deep, long breaths.

"Does it hurt? I could give you your next dose of-"

I flail and shake my head, rolling onto my side with a grimace and a breathy shriek. "No more chems!"

"Are you sure?" He helps me lie back on my front. "If you don't want 'em, I won't force 'em on you, but you seem to be in a lot of pain."

I whimper and grip the edges of the bed. "Pain is the lesser of evils." I say.

"Okay..." His tone is unsure, and why shouldn't it be? I'm obviously in pain and out of it, but he can't exactly force me to take medication without trespassing on my human rights, and Preston isn't that kind of guy.

Thank god.

Though the pain is pretty hard to ignore and my body is crying out for something to dull it, I clench my mouth shut.

This is why I never took medication for my anxiety issues. It makes me sick, makes everything not right- I hate it! Not just one kind of medicine, but all kinds. Anxiety meds, anti-psychotics, pain meds- everything. I don't even like to take allergy meds when springtime rolls around. Even the non-drowsy ones make me uncomfortable and woozy.

God, how could I forget about that?

How could I forget everything? How could I spend _days_ in Sanctuary and not notice everything around me was real? How could I go into combat, get an injury and not realize?

I groan into the mattress and wrap my arms around my head. _'I thought I was better at dealing than this? I thought I had coping skills, I thought this part of my life was over!'_

Apparently getting dropped into the middle of a wasteland is enough to traumatize a person, go figure.

Why am I here? Why did Midnight come with me? How come I didn't wake up in the Cryo-pod instead of the bed? Why did I take over my Sole instead of just plopping down in the middle of the wasteland somewhere?

How the fuck did I even survive that fight with the Raiders at the museum?

I snort and grip my forearms together until my arm skin stretches and I can feel the scabbing. _'Looks like I'm healing.'_

Remembering Mio and the absolute stupidity I'd shown when first approaching him, I grimace and cringe further into the mattress. _'He could've just ripped me apart and eaten the meat out of my pack.'_

But, maybe it's like I thought. Maybe so long as a female isn't around, he'll be docile. Some species are like that.

Or maybe as soon as he gets bored, he might rip everyone in Sanctuary apart.

The pain builds and builds over time as the wrongness slowly melts away. I can feel the moment the chems completely wear off. It's like my back is being flayed open right this minute.

I can feel every tear in my skin as a mass of _hurt_ on my back.

I whimper when Preston sticks me with another needle. "Just a stimpack ma'am. Just for your healin'."

I subside into silence at the wave of relief that sweeps over me. It isn't painless, far from- but the slight amount of less pain I now have is like bathing in boiling water then being dropped in only steaming hot water. It isn't good, but it's better than it was before.

I find myself drifting in and out of consciousness a _lot_. The pain is so constant that when it's basically gone...I don't know what to do with myself. So I jolt back to awareness and groan at my stupid brain that can't handle not being in pain.


	8. Bridging the Gaps

Mio is surprisingly still as docile as ever.

After bringing me back to Sanctuary, injured and somewhat unhinged- Preston put me on my couch and opened my front window so Mio could run by, sniff, check up on had to push my couch up against the window. He was so agitated otherwise, he was irritating- or scaring, everyone.

He sticks his head through the window and flicks my shoulder with his tongue. It's slick, so it doesn't abrade my scabs, though it does twinge a little. I always make a small grunting noise when he does it, and that seems to be what he wants.

So when he does it again, I grumble a little before he can lick me, and he's satisfied enough to leave me be. At least for a while.

Preston pops in from time to time to help me apply the lotion Codsworth is making from some plants nearby to my scabs. It isn't Aloe, but it isn't poisonous or anything, and the moisture is helping keep the scabs soft- which means less painful pulling.

Around the second week, my scabs are scarred over, and I'm able to get up and around. Which is weird, right? Even with a Stimpak, it's just...weird. Science-fiction-y.

...heh.

"You're restless." Mama Murphy has taken to showing up at my place to squint at me and ask about my plans. "You gotta have somethin' you wanna do."

I sigh wearily and slouch over my kitchen table, rubbing my face. "I know things I _could_ do. Things I...probably _should_ do. But..." I sigh and sit up, cracking my back and grimacing at the flare of pain from a scab on my lower back. "How do you decide what to put your life on the line for? How do you...how do you make the choice to throw yourself into danger and-"

"You've done it already, haven't you?" She asks, thumbing behind her. "Rescued us, took in that Deathclaw, even went and killed a bunch of Ferals to protect some folks."

"That was...different." I bite my lower lip. "I was kind of convinced none of this was real. I just woke up, you know- from the cryo-tank-" I can't let on where I'm really from. As perceptive as Mama Murphy is, she won't know _that_ unless I tell her. How could she? "I was convinced I'd wake up back home and this was just..."

"Well, now you know you're awake." She blinks rheumy eyes at me and tilts her head. "So are these people enough to fight for? Are other people? Is there someone special out there waiting for you? These are questions that need answers."

My lungs seize up for just a moment.

' _They weren't real before, and I was willing to die for Preston in a game. For Mama Murphy. For Piper, Macready, Nick, even Strong and Danse sometimes...'_ I rub my wrist and rake my teeth over my bottom lip. _'And John. Even if I couldn't...even if he didn't like me or if I don't like the real him- I couldn't just leave him to...'_

His brother is a Synth replacement. His people are constantly threatened by super mutants and non-ghouls alike...

"I need to find some people." I smack my hands down on the table and stand up. "I can decide once I...know them."

"If that's what you need to do, then that's what you should do." She nods. "Should probably learn a bit more before you go out and do it, though. Preston knows a thing or two about rifles."

I grin weakly and pat her on the shoulder as I walk past her. "I'll just go find him, then."

Three weeks I spend at Preston's side.

I only wait that long because I am absolutely abysmal. Preston is training me like an actual drill sergeant and he expresses shock every day that I was able to save anyone when I'm so weak, have no endurance and know next-to-nothing about guns.

The fact that I _did_ save people, that I _did_ survive- well, it seems like he's taken it as a sign that when I _do_ know shit, and can run a mile without collapsing, I'll be something special.

I tried to lower his expectations, tried to tell him I was basically out of my mind when I did all that, but he just doesn't seem to think it matters. Which is troubling in its own way.

It's three long weeks of running, jumping, rolling, and healing when I injure myself. I'm still kind of healing from the shrapnel and whatnot, so the injuries happen more often than they're supposed to, I think.

All the while, I have chores around the settlement like everyone else. I hunt radroaches, bring buckets of water back from the pond nearby to be boiled and de-radiated- still don't know how they do that, and of course help to restore the old houses into something livable again.

I have to take care of Dogmeat and Midnight, and even with Codsworth's help that's a little much with everything else. Midnight demands a certain quota of attention every day, then runs off until bed time. Perfectly happy. But Dogmeat needs a little more.

Not even going to _begin_ to get into what keeping a Deathclaw in your settlement entails. Though it does involve a lot of cuddling before going inside to sleep, when I'm exhausted and boneless. A lot of the time I just end up falling asleep with his reptilian hide under my cheek and his tail tucked around me.

Preston is leery of Mio, but after a couple weeks with him 24/7 he starts being less overtly afraid. Which is good, because Mio seems to get agitated when people are afraid. I cracked the joke that he could smell fear and Preston got this 'thinky' look on his face.

'You really think so?' He'd asked me.

I had no fucking clue.

So Preston just decided to put the most fearful settlers further away from my house, and the ones okay with Mio- closer.

I eventually find the pip-boy I was missing before, when I go exploring the vault. I don't find Nate's body, and the cryo pods are all open...this is weird. Right? Like...

I bite my lip, and settle back against the outside wall of the vault. That Cryo-gun or whatever wasn't in there. I remember it being there...

I walk back down to Sanctuary with Dogmeat and Midnight on my heels, because I figured it'd be safe enough for them to wait outside for me to come back. I pat Dogmeat's head and Midnight brushes up against my leg intermittently.

I take in the wasteland with new eyes.

Instead of seeing beautiful graphics and an entirely new world cobbled together- I see a world that's been torn apart.

Ugly, with sharp edges and dripping wounds.

It's so much more than you'd see when you were playing. I don't know about anyone else, but I have a pretty narrow focus unless there's a particularly breathtaking view in the distance or something.

Usually I see the objective ahead of me, the map, the characters or companions I'm talking to or fighting with- that's it. And now I can see _everything_.

I see the dead, broken trees and the exploded cars and the collapsed houses...

"This place is awful." I decide. Then I stop in the middle of the path to my house and tilt my head at the image of Preston trying to teach another settler how to get the meat out of a radroach.

I find myself smiling. "But the people are good."


	9. New Friends That Shimmer Gold

Regardless of my other plans, I had to get to Diamond City. Preferably as intact as possible.

So I loaded up my pack with the chems I was able to find around, as many stimpacks as I could get my hands on without depleting the settler's supplies and a whole bunch of radroach steaks.

Naturally, when Preston heard where I was headed, he offered to go with me so he could keep up my training and maybe recruit some people in Diamond City to the Minutemen. I wanted to refuse because Preston isn't really...my chosen companion. Even when I didn't have Hancock yet, I took around Nick or Piper or...anyone that wasn't Preston or Danse.

But it's dangerous out in the wasteland, and I know I can trust Preston, even if it's only in certain directions...

So here we are, outside Diamond City...and I've stopped.

"You alright, Valkyrie?" Preston's expression is pinched with concern and something else. "Are you...there's not like, a bounty on you in Diamond City or something, is there?"

"I'm not wanted anywhere." I take a deep breath and sigh heavily. "But I heard there was...well, I heard this place is...not as awesome as everyone thinks it is."

"Every place has its quirks." He shrugs and turns to lead the way, and I just can't burst his optimistic bubble.

So I just fall silent and follow.

We didn't have to fight that much on the way here. Just a couple of Raiders we had to avoid- it was easier to avoid them, and with my sniper scope and my nervous habit of looking through it every two minutes- well, it was a lot less eventful than I'd thought it'd be and I'm thankful.

I'm also terrified.

I haven't been in a real fight since I killed those Raiders to save the settlers with Preston. I mean, I've shot wildlife and all- but that kind of fight hasn't come up again. The Ferals weren't really a fight so much as a culling or a slaughter...

I still feel kind of sick when I remember their screams.

Preston tells me it's a miracle I was able to hit anything at all when I fought the Raiders, and it's only probably because my rifle was perched on something solid that my shots didn't all go wide back then. Which does _wonders_ for one's confidence.

The gate guards don't do much more than ask Preston what his business is, and then wave us inside.

It's a lot different than I remember. It's a hell of a lot different than I'd even thought it'd be.

For one thing the streets are a lot cleaner, the buildings are a lot more streamlined and there are a lot more shopping booths set up along the main street. Chems, food, water, and of course there are people selling trinkets and decorations for homes. In Diamond City, comfort is as important as survival. I expected that part.

Preston helps me sell my Chems at the Chem booth and I thank god he's here, cause I wouldn't know if someone was trying to swindle me, yet. I mean, Preston's been trying to brief me on everything I need to know, but the Economy is pretty fluid in the Wasteland.

So I got a hundred and fifty caps for my Chems, which I immediately used to buy some canned foods, spices and a small container of Berry Mentats.

"You use Mentats?" I can tell Preston is disapproving at me.

"Not before now, no." I glance at him and lift a brow. "I wanted to see if they'd be different from most drugs and not make me sick, not that it's any of your business."

His lips press together and he looks away, buying some supplies from a woman in a medical booth. I toss in a couple caps with his. He gives me a questioning look.

I roll my eyes. "I'm basically the only person who actually...you know, owns property- in Sanctuary." I shrug. "If it's _my_ settlement, I should take care of the people there, shouldn't I?" Nevermind that I'm body snatching...

"I guess if that's how you see it." He's trying not to smile at me, head ducked, hat tucked over his forehead.

I roll my eyes and readjust my cowboy hat. It might not be as spiffy as his minuteman hat is, but it goes damn well with what I'm wearing.

Sturges was a lot more helpful than I'd even thought he was going to be. He and Codsworth conspired together to get my armor away from me while I was lounging around at home and training with Preston. Sturges lined my red vest and shorts with some really thick leathery stuff- almost like Kevlar, with some metal panels in my pants-in the back and around my thighs. Then he added steel 'toes' to my boots and 'knuckles' to my gloves. I stopped them before they could screw with my hat, though.

"So where are we headed?" Preston asks me, surprising the hell out of me.

"Uhhh. I though you wanted to recruit and stuff?" Please don't come with me when I go looking for Nick, I don't want to have to fight you over saving a Synth.

"I could help you with your business first." He insists, looking eager and puppy-like.

"I want to make something clear first." I sigh and tug him by the sleeve of his jacket into a quiet alley nearby. "I'm not a Minuteman." I turn to face him and tent my fingers in front of me. "You're great and you help me out a lot, but that's as friends. Understand?"

He's looking nonplussed, so I don't think so. "I...alright?"

"Point being." I huff and swipe off my hat to ruffle my hair and scratch my scalp. "I don't ever take orders. From anyone. When I do jobs or personal errands, _I'm_ in charge of me. So if you want to come with me..." I gesture with my hands as I talk. "I'd still ask for your opinions and everything, but I am not a...follower, person."

"You mean you wanna be partners, and you don't want me to boss you around?" He looks so confused. "I can do that. Why would you think I couldn't do that?"

"It's not about what you can and can't do." I put my hat back on, adjusting my hair under it. "It's...I don't want to argue with you. I don't know what your personal values are beyond what I've already seen and I _will_ fight you if I think it's the right thing to do."

"I...okay." He shrugs. "Same goes for me, I guess."

' _Yeah, that's the problem.'_ I groan internally and shrug.

After walking all around Diamond City for about an hour, I admit to myself that I'm lost and stop to ask a woman for directions.

"What? You don't know where you're goin'?" She eyes me with a pair of squinted eyes. "Probably a Synth! Stay away from me!" She barks and turns on her heel.

I sigh and mutter angrily to myself about idiots and bigots living in the same house.

"You're not wrong, per se." A familiar voice. That voice!

I spin around and try to control the size of my grin. "You're him, right? The Detective?"

"Nick Valentine, doll." He responds, taking a drag off a cigarette and exhaling smoke. It's a completely unnecessary action as he's probably got no lungs or organic brain chemistry to affect with it.

Still... "You know, smoking is a _nasty_ habit~" I sing-song. A little too thrilled to do anything else.

He chuckles and the smoke curls around the brim of his hat. "Haven't had many complaints about _that_."

"Probably too awed by how cool you look huffin' that crap." I roll my eyes. "Some things never change."

He laughs and drops the cigarette, grinding it under his boot heel. "So, if you're looking for me- does that mean you got someone or something you wanna find?"

I take a deep breath and sigh. "I was actually hoping to find a _few_ people."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I realize stumbling upon Nick was extremely lucky and unlikely. My brain is cheating so I can get to John faster and it's like-- fuck reality, bring me that hot ghoul!!
> 
> So John'll be showing up pretty shortly.


	10. Negotiation

"Some of the names on here, I know." Nick is looking over the names I've written down on a piece of paper he handed me with a pen. "John Hancock? Why would you be looking to contact _him_?" No judgment in his tone, just curiosity or maybe incredulity. "No offense, but you don't seem like his type. You don't seem to do chems or drink. He does a lot of both of those."

"He also overthrew the leader of a corrupt system, took it over and turned it into a refuge for the lost." I flick my wrist. "He's also supposed to be damn deadly and that's useful no matter what you're doing in the Commonwealth."

"True." He chuckles. "This name...Macready? You know him personally?"

"I know he speaks in the language of caps and I can offer him a lot of work that will get him a _lot_ of caps." I shrug. "Other than that, I know he's about as morally conscious as Hancock."

"Which is to say, only when it really counts." He shakes his head and takes another drag off his cigarette. His office smells heavily of the stuff. "And the job you're hoping to pull?"

I sigh. "That's the part where I'm hoping you don't throw me out and call me nuts. Cause I kind of want to recruit you too."

"Me?" He sits back in his chair and laughs. "You want a Synth watching your back?"

"I want Nick Valentine watching my back." I shrug. "Synth, Ghoul, Supermutant- I don't care. You've got a reputation for being a good man, and I'm hoping you are."

"Awfully open-minded of you." He drawls with a little smile. Bright yellow eyes flickering with something. "So. What's the job?"

I bite my lip. "I kinda want to take down the Institute."

He pauses. "Uh-huh."

"Rescue all the Synths inside, kill all the scientists...take the technology." I tap my fingers on my knees. "I just need to contact the Railroad, rebuild the Minutemen and...well, I was hoping to take out the Brotherhood of Steel too."

"And...how do you plan to do all of this?" He asks, dubiousness dripping from his tone.

"Well. The Brotherhood accepts humans and I know how to talk to make them believe I'm like them." I begin. "I plan to infiltrate the Prydwen as a new recruit, work for them until they trust me with a suit of that fancy armor- and then knock out the engines." I gesture as I talk. "There's four of them, so I might need another person to work with...I think I'll probably need to turn someone on the inside, so to speak."

"You sound like you know which person...and like you've been on that airship before." He responds, taking a long drag of his cigarette.

"You could say I've been around- and I know some things no one would want me to know." I sigh. "If I could get the Railroad's help with sabotaging the Prydwen, I could save a lot of the technology and supplies. That's part of the reason why I want to recruit Hancock, because he's said to have a link to the Railroad." It's not _precisely_ a lie.

"Not gonna ask _me_ about the Railroad, huh?" He smirks. "Smart of you not to assume that all Synths are in league with each other, but now I'm wondering how much time you spend around 'em, doll."

"If you're asking if I'm a Synth, no." I shake my head and then pause. "Er...I don't _think_ so? I bleed. Do Synths bleed?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, Synths bleed. Biggest clue to bein' a Synth is memory gaps."

I frown. "I came out of a Vault. After that, I have no memory gaps-and before that I was eh...frozen. So whatever I don't remember from then..."

"Sounds rough." He tilts his head. "Experiment?"

"Samples, I think." I shrug. " _For_ experiments. DNA repositories, so to speak."

"Huh." He stubs out the incredibly short cigarette. "I'll get in contact with Hancock and Macready, see if they want to play. They'll want some kind of proof that you're serious and this isn't just a game to you."

I lift a brow and think about that for a moment. I have a lightbulb moment and stand up, turning my back and pulling up my shirt enough he can see the scars all over my back. "You can reassure them that the threat of physical pain doesn't faze me." I drop my shirt and turn back around to meet his eyes. "If I can make life better for everyone, and yes, that includes myself- I will go any distance I need to, shoot whoever needs shooting and take a bullet for anyone who has my back."

"That sounds awfully poetic, Doll. Still need a little...more. Than that." He sighs. "You've convinced me to go on a run with you, so that's something. I'll see what you've got for myself."

"I live in Sanctuary with Preston and some other folks. He should be getting antsy, waiting outside all alone." I glance at the door. "If you wanna get in touch, you can send word there. I have to get back and help my people set up their settlement. If you find something you think might test me and show you I mean business, don't hesitate to contact me."

"Will do, doll." He nods and watches me walk to the door. "When I see you, I'll collect the fee for hunting down everyone and putting them in contact with you."

"Understood, I'll be waiting." I grin at him over my shoulder and exit the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, Nick does think she's a bit nuts. She's still offering to pay him for shit, so why not?


	11. Impatient Activity

"I hate waiting for things." I sigh.

It's been two weeks since I saw Valentine and came back to Sanctuary.

Two weeks in which Preston's been training me with a knife and a pistol as well as a rifle and the general endurance training he was giving me before.

Two weeks of doing odd jobs around Sanctuary and the surrounding areas to find errant bottle caps and help the farmers at Tenpines Bluff keep their feral numbers down.

Two weeks in which Sturges teaches me the fine art of crafting chems, making new bullets from recycled metal and even shows me a few ways to make radroach taste less disgusting.

"I can tell." Preston deadpans at the fact that I have surrounded myself with Chemicals and chemical paraphernalia. "Are you going to stop mixing Chems soon? I get that you need money, but-"

"But what?" I have had enough of this argument, really I have. "The world is shit, Preston." I gesture emphatically. "People have no hope for the future and you want to hold it against them that they find something to make the world sparkle again? Fuck you." I say it without venom, but he still flinches.

"It's unhealthy ma'am." He reverts to calling me ma'am when I get argumentative or pissed off.

"So is sugar." I point out, with rolled eyes. "So is tobacco, so is owning a gun and so is stepping outside a vault. People do stupid things to themselves to feel alive. To ease stress. If they didn't, they might eat a bullet." I pantomime the action and he makes a face. "It doesn't matter what the coping mechanism is, they're all unhealthy in their own way. Drugs need to be monitored and distributed only when a person needs them- but how do you know what someone else needs, Preston?"

"I...don't, ma'am." He responds, not convinced or realizing anything but not wanting to argue anymore. I hate it when he does this.

"Don't patronize me, dude." I point at him. "Seriously, either actually converse or just say you're done. Don't pretend to agree or make it seem like you could to end the argument."

"I...don't want to argue, ma'am." He admits openly with hunched shoulders.

"I get that, Preston. But how do you intend to ever change anyone's mind if you don't talk to them about shit?" I lift a brow.

He pauses for a moment and watches me with unblinking eyes. "I don't...I mean, if someone doesn't agree with me..."

"Yeah, s'what I thought." I sigh heavily. "Just leave me alone about things you know we don't agree on unless you're prepared to actually talk the whole thing through. Don't just bitch and moan and get upset when I get ticked off that you had half a talk with me and then walked off with a vague 'uh-huh'." Which is basically what all his 'peacemaker' responses boil down to.

"...yes, ma'am." Grudging and low.

"If you want to make yourself useful, Preston." I gesture at him. "Go to the damn Settlement you told me about. Do some of your own Minutemen work. I've gone back three times to that place and almost died twice."

His head nods jerkily. "I'll take care of it."

"Good. Cause I'm getting tired of killing...Ferals..." I take a deep breath and close my eyes.

_Dark eyes wide and sparkling in the sunlight. Mouth ravaged by decay, open in a shriek. Arms flailing at me so fast I can't follow the movements._

I open them and shake my head, blinking when I realize Preston is gone.

Dogmeat has come trotting over though, at some point, apparently. He whines and sits just outside my ring of chemicals and equipment.

I snort. "God. I used to be so good at forgetting bad things. Then I had to go and live in reality again because everything was too painful if I came out of my own head for even a second." Mom and Dad weren't going to support me while I went through a funk. I knew I had to make myself stable, then I could veg out or whatever if I needed to when I had time off.

"Valkyrie?" One of the settlers looks nervous as they walk up to me. One of my regular mentats buyers, actually. I recognize him. "Letter came for ya."

I blink. "Letter? Damn." Must be Nick, right? I get up and grab a couple of Mentats, orange. I plop them into his palm as I grab the letter. "Thank you for bringing them to me."

He grins and tips his hat. "Happy to, miss Val." He turns about and pops one mentat, looking infinitely more relaxed than he had a moment ago.

It does make me feel bad for a second, but. Then I remember where he got his drugs from before, and that half the time people cut drugs with poisonous substances or other bad shit- and that I _don't_ , and I kinda think I might be saving half their lives. Not heroically, just circumstantially, but still.

I've got a good little pool of caps, all due to the Chems I've made and sold. There were a lot of components in the area. In the vault, in the surrounding area. Not all in bottles or whatever- I actually had to go digging and picking plants and shit. Right after I got a couple video lessons from the computer in the vault about _doing so_...

' _Need to find one of those Eden things.'_ Those things that grow plants and shit. Do those really exist?

I turn the envelope over, rip it open and pull out the letter.

I already know something isn't right.


	12. Travel and Battle

Dogmeat by my side, but otherwise alone- I travel to Goodneighbor.

Skinny-fucking-Malone. Nick got kidnapped _after_ I met him. His receptionist sent me a letter, desperately hoping I'd want to get him back, promising to dock the fees for my find-it's if I could bring him back alive. Poor girl. She's so obviously attached and I dunno if it's familial or romantic but it's like- how can you even say no?

Preston had already left for the settlement thing and hunting him down to ask for help saving a Synth he was leery of seemed folly in the extreme...plus I really want him to do his own minutemen bullshit for once, without delegating or criticizing how I do shit. I mean, I've only gone four times on his missions but he's already started up the routine of looking at me with those judge-y eyes...

So here I am, heading to Goodneighbor with my dog, hoping to god that Hancock and Nick are as good of friends as I hope they are- he might not help himself but he might send Fahrenheit or someone else with me.

Might just laugh in my face.

' _Please, let him be half the man he was in the game. Even just half. I'm good with that.'_

And of course, along the way- I had to keep instructing Dogmeat to remember: No fight. No bite. Sneak. Warn me if there's danger, but no bark.

After a while he seemed to get the rhythm and we were soon dodging around entire units of gunners and raiders. Hiding in buildings while they passed by, then skirting the boundaries of the city limits until...

We got caught up with some Super Mutants. And because I tend to react without thinking, I told Dogmeat to run and followed him...in the wrong direction.

I took them all the way the fuck around the whole wall of Goodneighbor and ran into a band of Raiders. Which gave me a hell of a lightbulb.

I ran straight through and yanked Dogmeat into a space between buildings before the Raiders could even really fire off more than a couple shots.

They fought each other, and we escaped in the melee.

I was limping by the time we found the door, bleeding from the thigh where I'd gotten grazed by a bullet. I slap a makeshift bandage on it and walk inside with barely a pause. I can't give myself a stimpak- needles...no. Ugh.

Only to come face to face with someone I was hoping didn't exist. Or that I hoped, at least, wasn't lying in wait.

Fucking Finn.

I didn't let him get more than his threat out before I pulled my pipe pistol and shot him in the foot. "Remember this next time you prey on someone who _looks_ defenseless." I told his screaming and cursing form. "God, I need a drink. Alcohol makes me sick and I want it anyway."

I'm lucky he's not as quick on the draw as I apparently am- it doesn't even look like he's packing a gun. Knives, sure. But a gun?

I shake my head and turn to walk down the street. It's highly unlikely that Hancock is just standing around waiting on Finn to accost people. It's also highly likely I might end up getting shot myself, the way everyone is avoiding looking at me.

And that's when I see him, leaning in the doorway of the State House. Watching me with a cigarette between his lips, fingers parted around it. He removes it and exhales a cloud of smoke as I stop and stare at him. A smirk curls his mouth and I find myself flustered before he even starts walking in my direction.

' _How does someone with burn scars like that look so good?'_ It baffled me before, how I could like John Hancock so much. I'm usually pretty vain. I mean, beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but my crushes were usually pretty in _some_ way. And...well, I guess this counts.

His skin is stretched taut over his cheekbones, and his lips are basically nonexistent- nose gone, of course. But it all...he just carries it. So well. With that damn hat on his head and those fucking coattails fluttering behind him.

He saunters past Finn, throwing him an unsympathetic look, cold and hard. Then his eyes flick back up to me as he gets close and he takes a casual stance as he pulls on his cigarette again. "So." His gravelly voice intones. "I gotta feeling you're here for somethin' specific. And since you stopped and waited, I'm gonna guess it has somethin' to do with _me_. Or my town."

I take a deep breath, trying not to stare too hard into his eyes- how is black so beautiful and terrifying at the same fucking time!? "Nick Valentine."

He lifts a non-existent brow. "What about him?"

"Skinny Malone has...him." Oh my god, my face is already heating up. I reach up and tug down the front of my hat, sighing. "He went looking for a girl, she's dating Skinny...they've taken him prisoner."

There's a laugh. "Sounds about right. If Skinny's in Goodneighbor, I haven't heard anything about it."

"No, he's in the vault. Over...in that direction." I gesture in the general direction of the vault I'd been able to find on my map. Vault-tec, of course they'd mark all the locations of vaults in their pip-boy's. Just in case anything went wrong and they needed to skip around. "I heard you were friends, thought I'd ask if you wanted to help."

He looks mildly surprised for a split second. "You...what?"

"Is that a no?" I take my hat off and run my fingers through my hair. "Cause I gotta tell ya, I got no one else. Preston's off being a hero and Dogmeat doesn't do well without constant direction. I'd have brought Mio if he didn't scare people..." Dogmeat barks a bit in offense at my comment about him. I trail off, muttering incoherently to myself for a moment as he stares at me, openly confused. "Fuck it, I took a shot. See you."

I salute lazily after replacing my hat and get about ten feet past him before he's walking abreast of me all of a sudden. "What exactly do you plan on doin', Sister? Walk in, shoot till you die, hope he gets out on his own?"

I laugh. "Yeah, basically."

"Why the fuck go, then?" He asks, sighing. "Is this one of those tragic love things, cause I gotta tell ya- stupid way to die."

I stop and snort so hard it _hurts_. "No. Valentine is still kinda...hung up on someone. So I can't even begin going down that road." I flick my wrist. "I asked him for help. He's charging me a fuck ton, but he's helping. He helps people."

"Point being?" He tilts his head and I realize the cigarette is gone.

"He's a good person and I can't just let bad things happen without trying to stop them." I shrug and throw my hands up, cursing myself.

Because he gets that look on his face that people get when they don't believe something. Not really disbelieving but 'What, really?' kind of look.

"So...you'd die for a really stupid reason, just so you could say you tried?" He asks.

"No. I'll probably get far enough to let him out. I'll just die of blood loss afterwards and he can get the rest of the way out on his own. I'll succeed, I'm just willing to hurt to do it." Die. Say it. Willing to die. For a robot. Whom you only know from one conversation, in which he seemed to think you were nuts.

Those glowing yellow-white eyes just...get to me, man.

"And even if it's not all romantic..." I lift an eyebrow at him. "I care what happens to the guy. I mean, does the Commonwealth really need to lose a good man like him? I don't think so." I shrug and start walking again, and a hand on my elbow stops me.

I actually jump a little and immediately feel mega-guilty when he drops my elbow like it's on fire. But well...no one's really touched me in a while. I've gotten used to Mio and Dogmeat and Midnight being my only contact...and he's _warm_.

"If you'll wait a minute...I'll get my shotgun." He says.

I blink. "What, you're gonna come now?"

"You convinced me. Stupid, but serious." He smirks at me and pulls a tin out of his pocket, frowning when he finds it empty.

I sigh and pull one out of my pack, handing him the grape mentats and rolling my eyes at the surprise on his face. "Chem-making is how I'm kinda making my living at the moment. I'll pay you in Chems if you manage to help me get Nick and myself out alive."

A laugh. "My kinda job, Sister." He pops a mentat and hums. "Sharper flavor than usual."

"I use a more concentrated formula and usually charge more for the grape flavored ones." I gesture at the tin. In fact I'd found an entire box of grape flavoring at this old mill down the way from Sanctuary- factory whatever you wanna call it- and I'm sure there's more around there somewhere...but nobody needs to know that, right? "Go get whatever, I'll wait at the gates. I'm leaving in twenty with or without you."

His laugh again, follows me as I walk away. "Just gotta stock up on shells, Sister. Be right with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes, I know it's kind of bullshit.


	13. Conversational

I don't even know how I was able to talk to the guy. I'm blushing so hard just thinking about it he must have thought I had heatstroke if he could see it. I mean, do his eyes work that well in sunlight? He hates it so much in-game I'd figure it'd make it hard for his night-eyes to work at capacity or whatever.

I've gotten a little bit of a tan since coming to the Commonwealth, but I don't think it's enough to hide the redness of my face.

He was just so...I mean, he kept tilting his head and peering at me like he was listening really close to everything I was saying and I get it more than ever now. He knows how to make a person feel important and listened-to. It's one of his...things.

There's something different about the ghouls I've seen, and him- I didn't really notice before because all the ferals were trying to kill me at the time- and after that they were in pieces...

Their skin is still intact. Not like, normal- but like...burned. Less burned _off_ and more burned... _on._ Like shrinkwrap when it gets hot and conforms perfectly to whatever is around it? Their skin is pulled taut over their bones and musculature and most of them seem to be lacking in muscle volume. Though not in definition, it seems.

So while I was trying to speak with confidence and not be a complete bumbling dumb ass while I was talking to him- I was also sneaking glances at the curves of his face and the grooves where muscle and bone were basically absent and the skin had...gone deeper.

And now we're walking down the street and all I can focus on is two things.

One: That I might die today.

Two: He has a shotgun across the back of his hips in a sideways holster and I'm sorta trying to avoid looking at it because it really emphasizes the sway there.

Of his hips.

The shotgun.

Fuck.

"So." He breaks our awkward silence with a nervous sounding laugh. "You're a vault dweller."

I blank for a second, because, duh- then remember that I didn't tell him that. "Is it tattooed on my forehead?" I deadpan.

The laugh is more confident now. "You're rougher around the edges than most, but you've got that...wide-eyed look."

Of course I do. Sighing internally, I bite my lip and search for a response. "Not so wide anymore."

"Been out for a while, then." He doesn't ask a lot of questions, does he? Just posits theories and waits for the confirmation or correction.

"Two months or so..." I realize it's been almost three. "Oh...wow."

"Time slow down or speed up for you?" He asks, giving me a sideways glance.

"Neither. I just...forget to mark it." I laugh and lick my lips. "Forget that it's significant...that it's a miracle I'm still alive for just another day let alone another month."

"Good way to put it." He says after a long pause and pulls a jet inhaler out of his pocket. Shaking and then inhaling in a practiced motion. "Everything is always a little fast for me, though." He talks slower, but not by much, exhaling a little of the stuff in the can. White and wispy, but barely visible.

"You seem like you'd like it that way." I glance away with a smirk on my face, trying not to blush and cussing myself out for flirting like a dumbass.

' _You don't even know if he's the same!'_ My mind screams at me.

A self-assured swagger in his walk tells me I just stroked his ego without really meaning to. "Me? Nah. I like to make the good things _last_." He throws me a look with a smirk of his own. "As long as possible."

And that is what makes me go 'nope' and fall silent. I can't even hope to counter that. And if I do, it'd be akin to signaling interest. As it is now, if I change the subject or just smile or something I can leave it at that.

"What's that, about two minutes?" Damn me to hell.

He hisses. "Ouch, Sister."

"Sister?" I grin. "You know you can call me Valkyrie. Or Val, I'm not really picky."

"About that." He gestures and pulls my mentats tin out, popping a few. "There's _gotta_ be a story behind that name."

"It's a pre-war thing. Probably not that interesting to you." I smile apologetically. "Not interesting to most _pre-war_ people, I'd bet."

"You'd be surprised how broad my interests are." He gives me a look like 'Yeah, not dropping it'.

I sigh. "Fine. But don't make fun of me. I'll trip you."

A chuckle, raspy and deep. "Now I gotta know. Come on." He nudges me with his elbow.

I roll my eyes. "It was mythology. An old religion from a long time before Pre-war." Begin at the beginning. "There were all these gods, and they all glamorized war and death and valor and shit like that."

"With you so far." He prompts me with a wry twist to his mouth.

"They had this afterlife called Valhalla." I bob my shoulders in a shrug. "A place where the greatest warriors were taken after death, and the ones who'd take them there were these female warriors called Valkyries."

"Wait, wait." He puts his hands up, grinning as we walk. "You named yourself after a couple'a death goddess angels of warrior-heaven?"

"You named yourself after a founding father, _Hancock_." I retort with pursed lips.

"Nowhere near as cool." He asserts. "Where did you even find that kinda shit, old books?"

"Books hold a treasure trove of information." I dodge the question. Hey, I'm getting good at that! I feel really _bad_ for being good at that.

"So what do you know about where Valentine is?" He asks, dropping the subject entirely. To my surprise.

"Skinny Malone has him, has lackeys and they all probably have some kind of gun." I quip, with a smirk.

"So nothin'." He snorts. "What about that chick? The one Nick went to look for?"

"She's dating Skinny Malone." I reiterate. "But she isn't passive in the relationship so far as I can tell, so it's not like he kidnapped her or something. I think."

Dogmeat lopes closer to me to brush against my right leg and I reach down to pat him on the head. He feels awfully hot. "You want some water, boy?"

He barks hoarsely and I feel slightly bad for not stopping to water him before now. The last time I can remember is before Goodneighbor.

I detour from our path into an old, broken down house. Dogmeat and Hancock follow me in and I sling off my backpack to rummage for the tiny cup-bowl I use to water Dogmeat with.

I set it on the floor and pull out one of my canteens, pouring the water into the bowl and taking a couple sips of it myself, before taking a long drag. _I_ haven't been drinking either, apparently, and I didn't know how thirsty I was till I did.

I automatically hold the canteen up when I'm done, forgetting that this isn't Preston and I don't even know him yet- and to my surprise, Hancock takes the canteen right out of my hand and takes a long drag off it.

He sighs, "Shit, I forgot I need to drink water and not just vodka, again."

I laugh. "Me too. Except for the Vodka part, I don't drink alcohol." I take the canteen back and pour some of the water into the now-depleted bowl for Dogmeat to drink from again, then cap it and put it back in my bag.

"What, you don't like to party?" He sounds so disapproving, it's funny.

So I laugh. "Any kind of chemical that's supposed to impair you for 'fun' and sometimes even to relieve pain- I get sick. Like, so sick that pain is preferable, sick."

"Shit." He chuckles in that nervous way, like he did before. "Guess chem breaks aren't gonna be a thing with you, then."

I blink. "Did you need to? Don't give yourself the shakes or anything."

"Nah, nah. I'm fine, for now." He shrugs and seems to regain that loose-limbed confidence. "But if I need a huff of jet later, do you mind?"

I lift a brow as I pull on my pack and stand up, Dogmeat hydrated and his bowl packed up. "Why would I mind? People use Jet in fights all the time and that's where we're going, right?"

"Right." He turns on his heel and leads the way back out of the old house. Or...old shop, I didn't really look that closely at the stuff inside.


	14. He's Magic

"That was intense." Hancock is sitting against a wall with me, just outside one of the many rooms and hallways in the Vault we've had to fight our way through. Thank god the rooms are soundproof if you close the doors or we'd have been made a long time ago...and that Dogmeat can take direction well, cause I had to hold him back and direct him _around_ something a few times to get him attacking the right people...

And thank god my pip-boy can override manual codes, too.

"Am I bleeding? I can never tell anymore." We're both breathing a little heavily though me worse than him. His breathing is evening out even as I speak.

He laughs. "You've got a scratch and some spots where I can tell you skinned yourself on the concrete floor, but no bullet wounds." He pulls out an inhaler of Jet and shakes it, taking two quick hits and closing his eyes. "We're gonna need to get more creative if we don't wanna end up with lots of those."

"Strategy's been working so far." I pop my shoulders in a shrug. "If you want me to die right up front and leave you alone down here-"

"Don't have to get up close and personal, Val." He gets out a mentats tin and pops a few of them. He does this in-between every room. Before we got down here, though he only took a hit of jet in Goodneighbor and then right before entering the Vault. Fighting is probably really stressful for him if he needs so much when he obviously usually doesn't. "Just try out one of those assault rifles we're lugging around."

Yeah, I got a bag off one of the gangster jokers and shoved a bunch of their firearms in it. I move it with us to each new area in case we run out of bullets or something. He ran out of shotgun shells after the first two fights and had to switch to a handgun and a rifle.

I grimace at the bag. "I am...not an assault rifle person. I'm not trained for it, anyway." I sigh. "I just got out of a vault almost three months ago, remember?"

"You don't seem like it." He huffs and shoves himself to his feet. "Still, I guess it's nice to have a Sniper watching my back who never shoots _me_."

"What, seriously?" I'm a little appalled. "You've been working with complete idiots, then. If you actually pay attention to where people are and where you're aiming, you don't hit anyone you don't mean to...well. Unless they're all in the same place and moving around a lot, like..." I push myself up and follow him, carrying the big sack of guns behind me. "...they're all wrestling together on the ground or something."

I never used to have a problem with not shooting my companions unless I was shooting exclusively in scope mode.

"I'll keep goin' with your plans, kid." He shoots me a look over his shoulder and grins when he sees me scowling. "But only because I can't stand to leave a damsel in distress." He says it in such a way I know he's just trying to irritate me, so it loses half its power.

"And also because I'm paying you in Chems with better flavor and more of a kick than usual, I'm guessing." I muse as I follow behind him.

He chuckles. "Yeah. That too."

...

Fighting with Hancock is bloody and messy and kind of haphazard.

Even without his shotgun, and he's slowly collecting shells for that as we go- he likes to get in close and make a mess. Snarling and growling and often even cursing when the guy won't go down right away, kicking them in the gut to shove them over or...

Well. It's just something to get used to. And the guy is _fast._ Like a freakin' squirrel.

He'll be halfway across the room and after I've taken a shot, he'll be almost right next to me. Then I take another and he'll be halfway across the room in the other direction.

And I don't think even half of that speed is the Chems.

By the time we find Nick, I'm pretty sure Hancock is magic. Maybe it's just the difference between Humans and Ghouls, maybe it's the people from this universe, maybe it _is_ just the Chems...but wow.

We wait behind some pipes as Nick chats up his guard. I'm pretty sure the only reason he started freakin' him out about the little book is because the guy's voice was beginning to grate. I can relate.

Hancock waits for the guy to rush past us, then steps up behind him, covers his mouth and stabs him in the chest a couple times. It's a quick, silent death.

And boy isn't Nick surprised to see me.

"What are _you_ doin' here, doll?" He turns his head and blinks at Hancock. "John?"

"Little Val told me about your problem, here." Hancock responds, lighting a cigarette in his mouth and taking a drag. "Got you some smokes, since I figured they must've took yours. Smoked a couple on the way here, though."

Nick rolls his eyes and looks to me. "What are you-"

I plug my pip-boy into the computer terminal on the wall and hit the override. Thank god it doesn't take actual coding skills to do this much or I'd be shit outta luck. "Getting you out."


	15. Smooth Talkin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canon divergence is so sweet.
> 
> I forgot to title this chapter and something IsadoraCousland said just sounded RIGHT.

We were facing down Skinny, his gang and Darla when I got an idea on how to end this without bloodshed.

"Darla, honey. What exactly do you think is going to happen with Skinny?" I ask her, stepping out from behind Hancock who'd stepped in front of me when the guns came out. Sweet and all, but unnecessary. "You're so young, and he's so much older. He might die long before you do from chem use alone." He's an obvious junkie. "Factor in the age difference and that'll be sooner than you by at least a couple decades if not more. I mean, that's fine if you really love the guy…"

She scoffs. "What would you know about it?"

"Do I look like I've got a lot of experience in the wastes?" I ask, starting a misleading line of logic. "I was in a vault till a couple months ago. Only things to do in a vault are work whatever jobs you have, eat, sleep and…well, relationships." I shrug. "Does he get your jokes? Do you get his?"

"Shut up!" Skinny growls but it's not menacing at all. He's just not one of those guys, you know? "Darla's my girl, and ain't nobody goin' to take her from me."

She almost looks happy about that, so I ruin it.

"Did you hear that, Darla?" I turn to her and gesture at Skinny. "Talking about you and what you want instead of asking you, like you're an object. And instead of telling you to get out of here and trying to protect you- he's good with you going into a fight against armed people…with a bat."

She glances at the bat in her hands as Skinny cocks his gun. "I told you to shut up."

"I…" She just needs a small push.

"You deserve better than a gangster who'll get tired of you and ditch you when someone younger or cuter comes along." I say, slowly. "And Skinny should really get a girl his own age, or he'll be perpetually bored of his girlfriends forever." I give him a very firm look. "Which doesn't lead to happiness, at all. In any direction."

"I-." Darla dashes in the other direction.

"Darla, where are you goin'!?" Skinny turns and we all bring up our guns. Pistols mostly.

"Your choice Skinny." I shrug when he turns back around, looking angry. "You might kill us, but you also might get shot in the process of trying." I cock my gun and narrow my eyes at him. "So. Sure survival where everybody gets to leave happily…or uncertain survival and possible death?"

Same as in-game, we got the countdown. But I sauntered instead of running. I felt a little icky when I noticed they were all eyeballing me, but felt better when I saw Hancock was, too.

In fact, that made me feel a _lot_ better.

We found Darla outside, pacing and looking irritable.

"I can't believe I almost threw my life away on that guy." Darla smokes a cigarette and huffs. "You were right. He ain't even near good enough for me."

"Well it's good that you know that." I say, exhausted. "Nick, John? Are you guys good?" Ever since I heard Nick calling Hancock 'John', I knew I could get away with calling him that just because I heard Nick saying it. I always had the urge to giggle if I thought about saying 'Hancock' too much, so this is a lot better.

Plus, it's like, his real name. Part of it, anyway.

He kinda stops and stares at me a second when I use it, but he seems cool with it.

"I feel like my circuits are overheating, but otherwise fine." Nick responds.

Hancock curses as he walks out of the vault's walkway. "Damn. This is choice territory. Could've just blown 'em all away."

"Well yeah." I shrug. "But it's likely one of us would've gotten shot in the process. If you want to get your people from Goodneighbor on it, you can- s'not like anything's stopping you."

"Guess not." He halts and eyeballs the pack of cigarettes that Nick pulls out of an inner pocket.

Nick rolls his eyes and holds out the pack. Hancock grins and reaches out, plucking a pristine white cigarette from the pack.

' _Ugh_ , _this much smoke is going to irritate my lungs.'_ I hate cigarettes.

"Darla, you should run on home. Your parents are worried about you." Nick gestures at her and lights his cigarette. "Wantin' to be independent is fine, but at least let em know where you're goin' next time, huh kid?"

"Yeah, I guess." She's pouting as she stomps away, but at least she isn't our problem anymore, right?

"Still can't believe you talked her out of her relationship with Skinny so easily." Nick chuckles and exhales smoke. "Her parents are gonna be overjoyed." There's something like approval sparkling in his bright yellow eyes. I try not to let that make me all goopy but it's hard. I mean, it's _Nick Valentine_!

"Hopefully Preston won't be too cross that I left him in Sanctuary with only Mama Murphy to tell him where I went." I mutter. "I gotta get back soon." I sigh and pull off my hat, running my fingers through my hair. "Feel free to contact me if you need further assistance in the future. See you guys, and here." After putting my hat back on, I pull a small bag I'd filled up before going into the vault, full of grape and berry mentats, out of my pack and toss it to Hancock. "Thanks for the help."

He catches the sack with a rough chuckle. "Pay me like this every time, and you can come kidnap me whenever you want."

I roll my eyes, trying not to smile. _'We'll see if you still feel that way after Nick tells you all about me and my crazy ambitions.'_

"Peace." I wave and turn around to start walking in the direction of Sanctuary. It's a lot easier to know which way to go when you're really there. In-game I'd get lost a lot, but it's not a problem now, thankfully.

Dogmeat barks and runs out of the tunnel where he'd been sniffing around looking for food, I think- and follows me down the street. I reach out a hand and pat the side of his jaw when he leans on my leg. "Good boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes, this isn't how it goes in the game-- but all my stories are AU so you shouldn't have been expecting any different.
> 
> ~.0


	16. Planning and Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'all prolly know by now that Val has some mental/emotional issues-- but I am in no way representing all neurodivergent people. This is one specific person with a specific set of issues.
> 
> Also, I'm updating earlier than I wanted because Silver drew Mio and Midnight and I'm fangirling a little in her general direction.

"We need more metal that isn't rusted through to make those parts." Preston and Sturges are looking over plans with me. Plans that Sturges and I came up with and then refined until we both figured it'd work.

My helping mostly consisted of me asking questions about basically everything, thereby enabling Sturges to really genius it up.

"I could go and get some from some old junkyards. We could cut around the pieces with rust." I mutter and tap the plans. "The tricky part is going to be a generator that doesn't run on nuclear power. Or at least can be converted to something else. I don't want to chance everything going kaboom and killing everyone in Sanctuary."

"Probably be best to get some tech from a factory or a machinery yard." Sturges scratches his head and sighs. "Gears and pistons…maybe some pipes if you can find any that have their ends still intact and aren't rusted through."

"Well, we could always-" Preston looks up and then past me. "Uh. Um. Val?"

I don't ask. I turn.

"Nick!" I shout a little loudly and wave when the guy stops in the middle of the road, his eyes swerving to meet mine. And then I see who's beside him a second later and drop my hand with a curious stomach-dropping sensation. "John." I say it quieter, but it's loud enough I think he heard.

Nick actually raises a brow at that.

I sigh and walk over to them. Just about twelve yards away. "You know, when I said come get me if you ever need help- I didn't think you'd both come at the same time." I glance between them. "I can only be in one place at a time, after all." I grin a little when Nick rolls his eyes at me.

"We're here to talk about the help _you_ need, actually." John's fingertips are drumming against his coat, down on his thighs. "Mind if we find somewhere private to talk?" It looks like his eyes are darting around Sanctuary and he keeps licking his lips. He also can't seem to stand still, shifting his weight from foot to foot in a swaying motion…

"John just do it. God's sake." I throw my hands up. "Nobody cares if you do Chems."

He goes completely still and I can actually feel the second his eyes lock with mine. I glance away with my whole body turning red, I'm sure- marching off toward my Sole Survivor's place. "Come on, this way."

Nick and John follow me in, John taking a hit off of an inhaler he apparently just took out of one of his pockets. He sighs the vapor through his nonexistent nose and I kinda wish I could take a picture. It looks so _cool_.

He sits on the couch and looks a lot more relaxed. "Mmmmh."

"Just for the record, I _do_ mind the Chems. But since it's your place, I won't argue with you over your rules." Nick almost seems kind of amused with the whole situation.

"Do you actually have a reason to dislike Chems?" I ask, lifting a brow. "Aren't Ghouls in some kind of chronic pain in a lot of cases?"

The air turns tense. Then Hancock laughs and takes another hit off the inhaler. "Shit. Actually knows shit about Ghouls. Read that in a book, too?"

I blink. "I kind of figured it was common sense. Ghouls are just mutated humans. Mutations can oftentimes cause discomfort and pain in a myriad of ways."

Another silence. Not quite tense but not quite easy either.

I frown and glance at Nick. "Did I make a social faux pas?"

"No." He chuckles and takes a long drag off a newly lit cigarette. "You're just…blunt. Most people pussyfoot around things like that."

Rolling my eyes, I shrug. "That's probably because they think of being a Ghoul or a Synth as a bad thing. Something someone's guilty of. Like Murder or theft." It's so stupid. "I don't. And I'm usually blunt as a rule."

"Good to know." John drawls from the couch. "Now, why don't you enlighten me on how you intend to take down the Institute, _exactly_."

And this is one of those tricky moments where I have to use my knowledge without saying where I got it.

So I bite my lip, twist my fingers together and say: "Okay, but I can't reveal my sources for the things I know."

"Didn't know you _had_ sources." Nick replies, looking intrigued.

"I guess I didn't mention last time. I prefer not to, really." Sighing and shifting, I lean against the counter in the kitchenette. "First of all, there are no doors into the Institute. There's a…teleportation device."

"Teleportation?" John is lifting a brow at me.

"Disassembling and reassembling molecules from point A to point B." I explain. "Like, zap. You were in Diamond City and now you're in the Capitol Wasteland."

His brows furrow. "Is that even possible?" He glances at Nick and Nick shrugs.

"If you want proof, we just gotta follow a courser." I shrug. "They'll spontaneously disappear into thin air."

John huffs in amusement. "Just that easy huh?"

"Look if you don't want in, you don't have to help me." I gesture at the door with a scowl on my face. "I am not demanding aid, here. You came to hear my idea, do you want me to get through it or are you going to brand me a liar and walk out?" My hand is still up, frozen in the gesture I was doing to point to the door with an open palm.

I wait for a grand total of thirty seconds, I think. Maybe longer, maybe shorter. "Not goin' anywhere till I hear it all, Sister. And relax, I ain't callin' you a liar." He traces the edges of the inhaler in his hand with his fingertips. "Just a lot to take in, is all."

"Don't make fun of the way I talk." I drop my hand and stare him down, feeling a shiver up my spine. "I'm blunt and straight to the point and I've heard that shit my whole life. 'Just that easy', 'It's not that easy', I _know_ nothing is easy." Taking a deep breath and shaking it off, I continue.

"I plan to find a Courser, and extract a chip from them that will allow me to relay inside the Institute. I would just need to build a relay- and I have an idea where I can get some plans for one." I bite my lip. "I would also need to get inside the Prydwen, which will be possible after I've helped rebuild the minutemen."

Preston still hasn't asked me to be the General, so I'm guessing he's more discerning than the game AI. I mean, I'd make a terrible General, right? But I can be a freelance consultant. I can be the face of the Minutemen once I start doing impressive shit and hopefully that will help.

"As for the Railroad…" I tap my fingers together and shoot John a look. "I figured you'd be the one to talk to, to get in touch with them."

"For…?" He asks, giving me an inquisitive head-tilt.

Nick is completely silent, studying me with his eerie eyes.

"I figure if I can get them on board with the plan, we can rescue the Synths in the Institute while we're taking out the leadership." I say. "And they can help me find a Courser, probably have people who can analyze the chip and help me build the relay. Plus they'll probably have work for me." Shrugging and dropping my head, I study the floor at my feet. "I can't help rebuild the Minutemen without making a name for myself and them as a result and without the Minutemen, all my plans fall apart."

"Hmmm." John hums deep in his throat and it's a sound that sends something…skittering down my spine. An odd sensation that I've never experienced before. I don't…dislike it. "So where do you think the plans are?"

"The Glowing Sea." I say, a bit dejectedly. "I'll need to join the Brotherhood to get a fully intact suit, maybe a hazmat suit to wear under that…" I grimace. "A lot of Rad-X and Radaway…"

"It seems to me that most of your plans intersect, but which one is it you're actually gunning for?" Nick flicks the cigarette in his hand with his fingers.

"All of them." I frown. "That's _why_ they intersect."

"Why, if you don't mind me askin'?" Nick queries with a curious expression.

I halt and frown. "Why not? The Brotherhood kills anyone not pure human whether they're good people or not. The Institute is creating copies of people out of enslaved synths. We could use whatever technology they and the Brotherhood have to better the lives of the people of the Commonwealth." I shrug. "I see a lot of problems that need to be solved with no one willing to step up and solve them. So I will."

"And if no one wants to help you out?" John has his own cigarette lit now, watching me

"I can just as easily infiltrate and take down the Brotherhood by myself." I respond, lifting a brow at him. "I can even do so while keeping the Prydwen intact, if I really want." It'd take a hell of a lot of preparation, it'd be hell and take forever, but I could do it. "I need help because I don't want to hoard the power I will inevitably need to accumulate."

Nick shifts and tilts his head. "You'd have a whole cult worshiping you before the week was out if you really wanted that." He nods. "Charismatic, pretty…people have followed for less."

"I don't want that." I grimace. "The only way to make it less…cult-y and more collaborative- is to have allies." And then I flush. "And I'm not _that_ pretty."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a plot twist thing I'm dying to gush about, but I don't wanna spoiler anybody. Sucks. lol


	17. Swarming Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This update is for herbsandlemons. Thank you for commenting so much!

John and Nick both react better to Mio than I expected, though they both stare at me like I'm crazy when I first lead him up to them.

"That. Is a Deathclaw." Nick comments, glancing around. "Are my circuits misfiring?"

"I see it too, Nicky." John replies, arms crossed. "Question is: why isn't it trying to eat us? And why is everyone in this little settlement not screamin'?"

"Mio's a puppy dog." I respond, grinning. "We keep him fed and happy."

Said puppy dog nudges my shoulder with his snout, rumbling in his throat.

"I know, I know." I reach into my thigh pouch on my shorts and pull out a wrapped radroach steak. I peel off the covering and toss the meat up into the air so Mio can catch it and chomp it up. Then I fold the covering and put it back in my pouch. No reason to waste it. "Good boy."

"I think these Mentats are givin' me hallucinations." Hancock pops another of my grape mentats with a cocked head. "Damn good ones, too."

I snort. "Shut up, it's not that weird."

"It is. So weird." Preston walks over and gives me an amused glance. "She walked into Concord with that thing and killed Raiders with it. We were still shooting at him because we thought it was going to come for us. She led him away into a storefront, dug out the bullets in his hide and made kissy faces at him."

I pout. "You're making it sound more grandiose and weird than it was."

"It _was_ weird and…grand." He frowns as he stumbles over the word he obviously doesn't know. Crap, lots of people probably won't know what half the words I know mean. I'm going to have to watch that.

"I just fed him and didn't shoot at him." I say defensively, crossing my arms and admittedly pouting a bit. "Just cause everyone else in the wasteland takes one look at a Deathclaw and shoots first before the possibility occurs to them, doesn't make it-"

A long, raspy tongue flicks out and slicks up the side of my head, knocking off my hat.

My eyes are scrunched closed and I sigh heavily. "Ick."

I can hear them all laughing, too.

…

Midnight and Dogmeat both demand some attention before I can leave with Nick and Hancock, but they seem to be fine adopting my other settlers and settling in with them while I'm gone. I left plenty of food behind for them, so no one has any excuse for letting them starve…

 _Preston_ should keep up with it, anyway.

We walk for a couple hours in companionable silence with the occasional question about where we're going and why from them- they both subside into silence in-between confrontations with bugs, radroaches and other nasties of the wasteland. Though after a while they both seem to get tired of that.

As it turns out- Hancock _really_ wanted to get out of Goodneighbor for a while. He isn't as casual about it with Nick around, apparently. Plus there's a couple rounds of Chems loosening his tongue.

"Fahrenheit'll keep everything running for a while. The authority and the responsibility was just…startin' to chafe. You know?" He takes a long drag off a cigarette and exhales the smoke as he continues. "I dunno if you can actually deliver on any of this, but since most o' your plans just involve takin' down really bad guys and helpin' folks, I don't see a reason not to."

"Well yeah, but why just up and leave Goodneighbor to help out with a crazy plan that someone you don't know…" I trail off and pause in the middle of the street. "I heard something."

There's a settlement nearby that sent a plea for help to Preston. A Feral Ghoul problem. I told Hancock he'd probably not want to come on this one, since they might shoot any Ghoul they see after being attacked by Ferals for- well, the request was only received yesterday but they sent it a couple days ago. Our radio tower needed repairs…

"Probably a few nosin' around the area." Hancock cracks his neck and draws his shotgun. "Most of 'em are probably still tryin' to get at the people, but there's bound to be little groupings around who lost interest."

"Greaaat." I drawl. "I'm better with long range." I pull the sniper rifle off my back and hand Hancock a grenade out of my pack that Sturges made for me before we left. "This will flash really bright to blind them and make them disorganized." I flick my fingers and roll my eyes. " _More_ disorganized. Use it if you're about to get swarmed and close your eyes tight- turn your head away if you can. Cover your face. It's _bright_."

Turning to Nick, I hand him a small pouch of ammo for his revolver. "Try to stay in mid-range rather than getting up-close, right?"

His lips quirk as he takes the pouch from me. "I'll try not to get myself ripped apart, Doll."

"Hey, what about me?" Hancock demands with a little smirk. "Not worried _I'll_ get hurt?"

My nose wrinkles. "No, of course not." I punch him gamely in the shoulder. "You earned your station through combat. You're the person I'm worried about _least_."

That made him entirely too smug. "Hear that, Nicky?"

"Don't let it go to your head, John." Nick smirks back at him.

"Alright. Time to go to work." I bounce in place and glance around us for a spot…ah, there!

So I climb up on top of a wrecked truck and sight down the street, waiting for the other two to make noise and draw attention. We're so close to the settlement on the map, it has to be the Ghouls. If not, I still won't hesitate if they lift a rifle at us.

It is.

After Nick shoots a single shot at a nearby car to make a loud noise, they come swarming from all directions. I mean, we're near an intersection. About two or three from the left and right, four coming from straight ahead.

"Get on the cars!" I shout as I take aim and start bringing them down. "They'll have to pause to figure out climbing to get near you!"


	18. Awkward Cameraderie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got overexcited, so here's an update for Silver and her prettyful art.
> 
> Don't hunt me down! lol

I found a watch and a hairbrush on the ferals we killed.

I knew there were miscellaneous little things like that, but they're…well. It just slams home the idea that these are people who've been driven mad.

I also found some bottle caps on them- but only about four. And afterward when I began dragging all the bodies over to an open spot in the road, that's when the questions started up.

"What are you doin' Val?" Hancock cocks his head at me as I drag- what I assume once was a female- Ghoul to the pile I've begun. I think he was too focused on keeping watch and scavenging with Nick to focus on what I was doing until now.

"They were people once." Is my response. "Not always going to be able to do this, but…" I walk over and grab another under his arms and start dragging. "Those Norse legends I told you about? The Vikings would burn their dead sometimes. It's a funerary practice I've always found…agreeable. Plus, dead bodies lying around just invites disease and…well, I'd like to cut down on that."

The next time I go to grab a Ghoul, Hancock is there helping me lift them. His hat is pulled low to hide his eyes, but I'm not looking anyway.

Not many people would probably think to do it aside from the whole disease thing- but those people probably aren't enamored with a Ghoul.

Nick comes back just as I'm pulling a matchbook out of my pocket. "I need some fuel…find any alcohol around?"

Hancock hums and walks into a storefront, only to reappear with a bottle in his hand. "Found a bar. Only a few bottles."

It only takes a minute to pour the alcohol over the bodies and light them up, but it's long enough for more Ferals to reach us from down the street.

Hancock isn't quite as loud and ferocious as usual when he goes after them, preferring to use his knife when possible.

Nick helps us this time around, sliding the Ghouls onto the pyre with as much care as we can before pouring more fuel on top of them to encourage the burning…

"Should get moving again." Nick's metal hand pats my shoulder. "There'll be some left further ahead, I'm sure."

"I know we can't do this again." I gesture at the bodies and flick my wrists a little. "But they're...they weren't turned right after the bombs dropped."

They're wearing clothes that look patched and they had pre-war stuff in their pockets but also wasteland caps…

"They went Feral after that." I'm frowning at the fire. "Pre-war Ferals just sort of…experienced a quick brain death, but the ones who went Ghoul and slowly changed-"

"This is all new to you, I get it." Hancock is suddenly closer to my side, peering at my face with grimness etched into every line of his. "I forget that sometimes the realities of goin' Ghoul aren't even known to most humans in the wasteland…let alone a vaultie. Yeah, it must've been hell for them to change…but they're already gone. Like you said. Brain dead."

I bow my head and sigh, brushing off my armor and turning toward the road to the settlement. "I don't like problems I can't solve…" Sicknesses I can't cure, people I can't help. Only thing for it is to find a problem I _can_ solve. So.

I start walking.

"It gets easier when you realize you _are_ solving someone's problem." Nick nudges my side as we walk down the road. "We don't even know if they're stuck in their own heads, screaming for help. The only thing you can do, is put 'em out of their misery."

"If we ever figure out a cure for Ferality, you be sure to let me know." Hancock lights up a cigarette. "I'll help you round 'em up and prick 'em all."

I snort a little at that mental image. "I think they should have a grace period after regaining their brains before they have to worry about that, John." I worry it's a step too far as soon as it leaves my mouth.

It takes him a second to get it, but when he does- A laugh that's loud enough to echo down the street. "You little _shit_!"

The rest of the Ferals outside the settlement's gates- really slap-shod gates that were obviously cobbled together with metal, gum and dreams- are easier to kill.

The people on the inside of the gates have been raining down rocks on them- even after they'd run out of ammo. A lot of them had limbs that were broken and useless and some of them were just clawing at the gates for so long their fingers had fallen off.

It was awful, but easier when I remembered Nick's words.

' _They might be in excruciating pain and are just…unable to stop themselves._ ' Killing them quickly is all I can do.

In-game it's kind of suggested that you should realize these used to be people and they weren't always just mindless hordes of zombie-esque enemies. But seeing it all first-hand, finding little toy cars and jewelry in their pockets or hanging around their necks or…

It makes my chest squeeze.

Especially hard when it's all over and I can see Hancock hanging out around the side of a car- staying out of sight of the people opening the gates.

I sigh and walk over to engage with them, gesturing Nick to hang back with Hancock. "You're probably going to want to stay back, too. Just in case."

He shrugs and walks back to the car, lighting up a cigarette.

The people walk out with weapons drawn, but I'm pretty sure they're probably empty. "Hello, I'm with the Minutemen!" I wave and smile when there's relief painted on their faces at my declaration. "Would you folks like to set up a trade with Sanctuary?"


	19. Chapter 19

"Somethin's been botherin' me." Hancock hands me a small piece of wood that he's whittled into a practice knife. "About the first time you came to Goodneighbor."

We've stopped on our way out back to Sanctuary, so Hancock can show me how to use a knife like he does. I figured some tips couldn't hurt. We'll pick up supplies and head out anywhere we're needed or that we might be helpful- and if there are no calls for help for a few days, I figure I can just take them to recruit more of the companions.

I blink at him as I grasp the knife the way Preston taught me. "What about it?" Did I slip up and say something off?

He huffs and reaches out to correct my grip. "Who taught you to hold a knife? Here."

"Preston did." I pout. "He's perpetually virtuous so I doubt he knows much about eviscerating people."

A bark of laughter from Hancock and then he's pulling a small wooden knife out of his own pocket. "Good point. Anyway…about Finn."

"You didn't seem upset at the time that I shot him…" I say slowly as he shows me how to slash with the knife. I copy his body movement as well as I can.

He hums and shows me again from a different angle. "Nah, guy had it comin'. Had a lot _more_ comin', actually. But you just shot him in the foot. Why?" He smirks a little at my feeble attempts to mirror him and walks around me, poking my elbow and shoulder when they go off course to get me to loosen or tighten up at the right moments. "Don't tell me- everybody deserves a second chance?"

I pause and blink at him. "Yes. And no." I shrug and try the slashing motion again. "To be honest, I'd heard a lot about people attacking Goodneighbor in the past and I didn't want to put you down a man. A shot foot doesn't mean he can't hold a gun or work a cannon, after all-"

Laughter off to the side draws my eyes and I see Hancock leaning on a nearby, big-ass rock.

"What!?" I demand, crossing my arms and pouting.

He calms down enough to get out a couple words, "you just keep gettin' better and better!"

"Am I wrong?" I demand with my hands on my hips. "You didn't seem to have a whole lot of residents."

His laughter has become a chuckle. He shakes his head, adjusts his hat and stands up. "No, you're right. Woulda missed the guy if there was a Super Mutant attack. Just…everythin' about you is a surprise." He shrugs and shakes his head. "When I first saw ya, I figured you'd be dead before the end of the day if I didn't help you out. And I was sorta right."

"Ass." I retort.

He huffs in amusement and puts his hands up. "Hey, hey. I was sorta right _at the time,_ " He emphasizes. "But you're pretty reliable. More'n most mercs and drifters I've known. So…" He drawls the last part and saunters back up to me. "I'll jus' have to keep workin' with ya 'til you're as deadly as me and Nicky boy."

"You're improving faster than I expected." Nick speaks from the other side of the space we've been using. "Your reflexes and speed are pretty advanced for a prewar civilian, too."

"Yeah I don't know _what_ that's about." I admit. "Maybe they did something to us while we were frozen?" Could be possible that this body was modified somehow…wow. That's weird and unsettling to think about.

"Maybe." Nick muses. "Or maybe Preston's a better teacher than we thought."

"No." I deadpan. "No he is _not_." That guy ran me ragged and albeit not as ragged as he could have- but it was mostly building up endurance and aiming practice. He doesn't know nearly enough about hand-eye-coordination and reflex training to be responsible for this. Hancock and Nick could teach me that, I'm sure.

"Alright, I'm teaching you to grapple, next." Hancock hands me my pack and shrugs on his own. "We should walk a couple hours, though."

"You think there'll be another settlement to rescue already?" I wonder. "The Minutemen were decimated so it's not like a lot of people know they're rebuilding, right?"

"Always somebody in trouble. Better to be where you can hear their calls for help." Nick walks up next to us as we head toward Sanctuary once more.

"True." I acknowledge. Then ask, "John, could you give me some tips about Chems?"

Nick and Hancock both look surprised by that.

Nick hums uneasily. "Thought you couldn't take 'em?"

"I can't." I respond. "It'll make me really sick. But if it's an emergency and Chems can save my life or someone else's, I'd rather know what to expect if I'm that desperate. And also…well, I could be drugged…"

Hancock chuckles a little, but it's a sad kind of laugh. "Yeah, I can tell you all you need to know…just be careful, Val."

My heart jumps up in my throat and flutters a little and I'm feeling very flushed, so I just shrug and tip my head down so my hat will cover my face. "This _is_ me being careful. Any more careful and I'd wrap myself up in bubble-wrap."

"Bubble…wrap?" Hancock asks.

Nick answers. "Puffy plastic bubbles in a sheet that'd protect valuables from getting broken."

Hancock laughs, "pre-war shit is weird."

…

The Red Rocket Truck stop was closer than Sanctuary when the sun was setting. So I suggested we just bed down there and go to Sanctuary in the morning. I was exhausted, but Hancock and Nick both seemed like they could've walked on for hours more.

So I felt a little like a weakling and a child, though they were really nice about it. Obviously my endurance could still use some work.

I pulled out a couple of radroach steaks that Codsworth prepared for me, and since I already know I can stomach them, they're usually all I eat…I mean. Would you chance eating something new that could be completely disgusting when you already knew you could eat something else that's in fruitful supply everywhere?

Not me.

I bugged Hancock until he ate the other one, mostly because I hadn't seen him eat in like, a whole day and a half. Chems are not a substitute for food and starving yourself is not good regardless if you can take it or not.

The only problem was, after I fell asleep…I started having nightmares.

First time I woke up, it was with a silent in-drawn breath- images of Feral ghouls swarming me behind my eyelids every time I blinked. But I've never let nightmares keep me from sleep, so I just shut my eyes and fell back into the dark.

The second time I woke up, I stayed awake. I got up, walked the perimeter outside- to an understanding look from Nick- and then lie back down when I felt like I could sleep again.

I didn't sleep deeply, though.


	20. Chapter 20

"Shift your weight, Val." Hancock has his hands on my hips, shifting them around as he uses his shoulders to shove mine the direction he wants. His hips don't touch mine, but this is still wayyy too much sensory information for me to stay coherent. "Come on." He rumbles in his throat, shifting me back. "Loosen up."

He's trying to show me how to shift my weight when I'm moving in a fight but I'm locking up worse with every breath near my ear.

"John." Nick walks up with a really irritable looking Preston. "Vault-dweller. Remember?"

There's a pause and then John is stepping away from me, chuckling. "I keep forgettin'. Sorry Val."

"I'm okay." I think it comes out a little too breathy, but I turn to Preston before anyone can comment on it. "Did we get another signal?"

"No, not yet. But we _have_ been contacted by some people who've been trying to find a settlement to live in. They said they can't live in Diamond City, Goodneighbor is too rough and anywhere else is too small or not well enough defended…" Preston pauses and licks his lips. "They want to live here."

"They're ghouls, huh?" I say, making a snap determination.

Preston blinks, "how did you-"

"Because you seem uncomfortable, you had no reason why they couldn't live in Diamond City but you did for everywhere else…" I list off points as I gaze up at the sky. "And Nick was kinda glaring at you like he'd had to prod you into telling me, which means you tried to just reject them outright."

I think he's blushing, but I can't tell. His hat shadow is hiding most of his face- not from view, but… "I just don't know if we should be accepting random people we don't know."

"I do. Call them back and tell 'em to come on down. They can meet Mio and I'll put them in my corner of the settlement where I know no one will be fucking with them." I respond. "If any of them make trouble, John can take 'em home with _him_."

Hancock snorts, "saddle me with the troublemakers, huh?"

"You're the only one I can think of who can make troublemakers behave." I say, wrinkling my nose and smirking a little. "You know, enough not to kill people outright, anyway."

A barked laugh and Hancock shifts, crossing his arms. "Got that right."

"I'll let them know…" Preston turns on his heel and stalks off toward Sturges's station, where the radio is.

Nick gives me a glance and I gesture after him. "Yeah, watch him, if you would." It's not that I think Preston is a bad guy- but he'll have to get over this. Ghouls are persecuted and put down everywhere in this damn wasteland, it's not happening in Sanctuary.

"He doesn't really hate or dislike Ghouls, I think." I say as Nick walks away.

John turns his head to look at me, tilting it just so- enough to spur me on, make me feel like he's listening. Damn he's good at that.

"I think he just thinks he's _supposed_ to and even _he_ 's not really sure why." I shrug and bite my lip.

"We're gonna be gone a lot. How're ya gonna keep the folks here from messin' with 'em while we're out on those Minuteman jobs?" He asks, pulling a mentat tin out of his jacket and popping a few.

"Mio and Dogmeat." I reply, grinning a little. "Dogmeat understands basic commands and he and Mio have taken to bedding down together at night. Dogmeat in his doghouse and Mio curled around it…usually with Midnight perched on his back or something, it's adorable."

He huffs in amusement. "So what, you're gonna order Dogmeat to watch the Ghouls?"

"He understands guard dog duty," I say. "So yeah, I'll tell him to protect them and if anyone pisses off Dogmeat, Mio will probably get into it. And they all know if they kill my pets they're gonna have to deal with me." I say that last part maybe a little darkly, but who gives a fuck. "Anyway, are we done grappling for now? I've gotta go check my maps and figure out where to go next if we don't get a job to go after today."

"We gonna leave tomorrow, still?" He asks, pulling a smoke out of a box in his breast pocket. He puts it in his mouth and lights it in one fluid movement. "How're we gonna hear if somebody needs help?"

"I've got one of the civilians here to agree to run a message out to the nearest settlement and he's got enough caps to ensure it gets handed off to a courier who'll be able to find me." I respond, sighing. "To be completely honest, I don't really like Sanctuary all that much. It's too…whitebread?" I half-ask as I glance up and put my hands on my hips. "The people are only nice so long as you're not different. I intend to start putting up new settlements but I can't do that if I'm here 24/7. I'll get some kind of radio tower built near the settlements so I won't have to be."

"Haven't even been here that long and you already can't stand it?" He asks, tilting his head at me. "Somethin' goin' on you're not tellin' me?"

I blink, "huh?"

"Somebody botherin' you?" He asks more pointedly, inhaling and pulling the cigarette away from his mouth and blowing the smoke away from my face.

"Oh! No. I just…prefer places like Goodneighbor." I say honestly, tilting my hat down to hide my face a little as I turn and walk off toward the house. "Less judgment, more opportunity…people who are _actually_ nice."

I can hear the crunch of his boots following me. It's understated as the dry dirt around isn't really that crunchy- but I can hear it so clearly it sends a shiver up my spine. Like when you're being stalked by a predator, I guess, though I've never felt this before.

He waits until we're almost up to my house to say, "know what ya mean."


	21. Hancock POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So as it turns out, this story is half Hancock's now...

She's hard to figure out, Val.

Not a party girl, but not uptight. Not a soldier, but fights with some sense o' duty I can't really…understand. Just knows right from wrong and doesn't let anybody else tell her otherwise about what she knows.

I'm a little jealous. I mean, I've known right from wrong for _most_ of my life… I just let other people tell me I was wrong too often and let it get to me. Was too afraid to stand up and do somethin' when it was time.

Val though, she doesn't even hesitate. When Nick asks if it's the right call to just kill everyone in a Raider camp, she has a logical argument. She has points to counter all o' his. And then some.

It's funny watching him almost overheat tryin' to argue with her.

I agree with her, more often than not, but when I _do_ agree with Valentine…seems like she takes it more seriously. Might just be because it's two against one, might be because I'm more…let's say 'open-minded' than Valentine…

"Hey Val?" I stop near one of the bodies we're looting for supplies and turn to look around for Valentine.

He's on the far side of the carnage, lookin' through their crates instead. Doesn't much like goin' through dead people's pockets if he can avoid it. Don't blame 'im.

"What's up, John?" She looks up from a corpse as she pulls a small silver necklace out of its pocket.

Her eyes are the most clear blue I've ever seen and it almost makes me shiver every time she says my name. "Wanna ask ya about somethin'…not sure how."

"Just ask. It's not like I'm gonna rag on you for being too familiar or something." She scoffs and checks the other pockets. "If I don't wanna answer, I'll say so."

"Why me?" I kinda blurt it out, I hope to hell she doesn't notice that. "Outta all the 'deadly' people in the Commonwealth, the people with influence…why me?"

It's never made all that much sense to me. I mean, I'm just the Junkie Mayor of Goodneighbor. I took over the town, sure, but plenty o' people do that all the time.

She stops and sits back on her haunches after I ask, tilting her head at me. She looks…confused? Quizzical. "Why _not_?" Her tone tilts up at the end.

"S'that a question?" I'm grinning, can't even help it. She's fuckin' cute, okay?

"Well, I don't understand why you think I wouldn't." She says, looking up at me with probing eyes. "Is this the Ghoul-thing or the Chems-thing?"

"Both. Neither. More 'n that…" I sigh and lean back against one of the huge-ass crates they were usin' to store the goods they were stealin'. "Just…do ya got reasons?" How does she see through me so easy?

She moves to another body, shoving the caps she found from the first into the sack for valuables. "Well yeah, I've got reasons for everything I do." She sits down to start searchin' that one and glances up every once in a while as she talks. "Reason one: You're deadlier than most people. Even without a weapon you'd probably scare the hell out of me in a fight." There's no approval or disapproval in her voice. S'just a fact as she sees it.

She ain't wrong.

"Reason two: You took over Goodneighbor, and you had good reason to." She pulls a wedding band out of the guy's pocket and glares at the corpse. If her eyes could set people on fire, he'd be burnin'. "Other people take over because they crave power, money…Chems. Influence." She shrugs. "You took it over to save the people that guy was terrorizing. You didn't know how to run a town, didn't want to. But you did, because they needed you to."

"Well…" I shift uneasily and reach into my pocket for a tin. Couple of mentats later and I don't feel so…weird. "Nobody else was gonna do it, and I figured…least I'd give it up for somebody better."

I don't miss the way her lips angle up when her head tilts down, tryin' to hide her face. She keeps doin' that. "Reason three: you're not power-hungry or blood-thirsty. You don't kill people for the sheer joy of hurting someone, you do it because it needs to be done and you like fighting. Especially when it means you can help someone by putting bad people down."

"Hey don't go ruinin' my reputation now," I chuckle and flinch at the twinge of pain from my left leg. I got grazed a coupla times, but it's nothin' big. "You're right though…I like it. The rush of it, knowin' you're still alive just cause you're _better_ than the other guy…"

"Yeah, I know." She says, moving on to another body. "Reason four: You're secretly a giant softie." She tosses me a look over her shoulder. "And don't even deny that one, cause I've seen proof. Recently."

It's a little weird to have someone tell you about yourself, but not….bad, exactly. "Got a reason Five?"

"You're a lot more personable and easier on the eyes than any of the other prospects." She says, slingin' the sack over her shoulder and grinnin' at me.

I snort and relax back against the crates. Flirtin' is easier than the heavy stuff. "Ain't so bad yourself, Sister."

She laughs and moves toward Valentine, steppin' over bodies as she goes. "Well, let's go. We gotta send a courier for Preston and wait for him to get here with some people to pick this stuff up."

"That reminds me." I push off and follow her, givin' Valentine a cocky grin when he glances up at us. "How do ya think the new arrivals are doin'?" Ignorin' the pain in my leg and my right arm, protestin' at the movement.

"That guy in charge of them seemed like the take-charge, no-nonsense kinda guy." She says, shrugging. "I'm sure he'll keep them all under control and away from anyone dangerous while I'm gone…" Her sigh is tired. "Preston probably wouldn't even think to see to their comfort needs, but I'm pretty sure Vernon will ask."

That's another thing that's weird. She can't always look me in the face or be that close to me without hidin' her face or breathin' funny.

If it was the old days, back when I had smooth skin, I'd think she was attracted to me. But nobody gets that affected by me anymore unless I already got a hand down their pants.

So if she's a little weirded out by Ghouls, why is she so protective? Acommodatin' and equality-minded?

Nobody is this good. It's…too good to be true. There's gotta be _somethin_ ' wrong with her.


	22. Chapter 22

"John!" I dart behind a car on my path toward where he went down.

"M'alright!" The shout is returned as gunfire pelts my cover. "Damn that hurts."

"I got him." Nick runs past me and I lean out to give him covering fire when they start aiming his way.

The enemy is just one of many groups that've been trying to kill us since we picked up the Raider camps stash and tried to get away. Apparently we're more easily seen at a distance with a caravan of crates on wagons than just three people ducking around debris.

Preston is on the other end of the caravan of three wagons, providing as much cover fire as possible as we try to actually take the guys out. Dunno if they're Raiders, Gunners or just bandits but we are _not_ dying today.

The Ghouls that moved into Sanctuary volunteered to help Preston retrieve the goods and it seems he's warmed up to them a little bit. That guy just needs to see individuals instead of a concept and he'll come around, I'm sure.

They're in the wagons at the moment, hiding behind the crates with the most breakable or valuable things from inside them wrapped up in their arms, most likely.

The wagons are rickety and probably going to need some things fixed before we can move them again once this is over. Fuckin' assholes…

"Preston, sniper mode!" I shout down the line quietly as I can. "I'll flush them toward your fire zone."

"Copy!" He shouts back. I can barely hear him over the gunfire so hopefully they couldn't hear us.

I still have some shrapnel grenades. Preston brought me some from Sanctuary, I asked for them in the letter we sent off to Sanctuary. We spent about two days doing nothing until he showed up and then got moving, uneventfully.

And then we were Ambushed. Like, they'd obviously been sitting and waiting around a while cause they knew the terrain better than us. They were able to use it to their advantage against us.

One of the Ghouls that came with the wagons, Carrie? I think that's her name, she got shot in the shoulder. The others took her into the wagon and probably gave her a Stimpak from one of the crates. I hope they found one, anyway.

I throw the concussive grenade on my belt toward the right side- they seem to be clustering up there behind a natural rock formation. Not anymore!

BOOM! The grenade explodes behind them and luckily for me, it seems they didn't even notice me throwing it because half of them get caught in the blast.

"Hell yeah!" Hancock's voice echoes from the far side of the caravan. "Hit 'em hard while they're panickin'!"

"That was the plan!" I call back as I lean out of cover to take a few accurate shots at the chests and heads of the attacking bandits. I see Preston hitting a few of them in the legs and shoulders- which is fine, at least they'll be disabled. But… "Preston, kill shots!"

"We should at least try-" His voice is swallowed by the sound of another grenade.

Ah, I forgot I'd given Hancock a couple of those for 'just in case'. I'd asked him to wait until I started using mine, to be sure we weren't all throwing at the same time and also because I'm anticipating Preston having a problem with how Hancock fights. At least this way I can profess that I had some control and Preston will have to pick at _me_.

The few that are still alive are on the ground, clutching at wounds when we round the rock formations to find them. I push Hancock's shotgun barrel down and give him a wary look. "They're disabled, we can tie them up and haul them back to Sanctuary. We'll figure out who they are and if they have other people in the area. No reason to kill them if they can't fight back."

Hancock doesn't seem happy about it, but he doesn't argue, putting away his shotgun and drawing his knife. "Any of you move too fast and I'm slittin' yer throats."

The men still alive watch him with fear and some of them weakly scrabble away from him.

Preston walks past me with some lengths of rope in his hands, he carries a lot of it coiled on his belt. "There's no reason to threaten them, Hancock. I'm sure they can see their situation for what it is."

"There absolutely _is_ reason." I cut in as I grab a bit of rope that Preston's cut off. "We aren't their friends. They are dangerous men who tried to kill us and if they don't surrender totally, they need to know we'll put them down. Everyone being aware of the boundaries and consequences is necessary."

"I don't believe in attacking unarmed men, Val." He puffs out his chest as he looks back at me.

"Alright, then die." I shrug. "Next time one hides a knife and your trusting ass goes to tie them up, they'll cut your throat and we'll have to shoot them before they can attack anyone else. Hopefully shoot them _before_ they can kill you- but then you'd probably shout something like 'don't' or something so we'd hesitate." I let my eyelids fall to half-mast as I look him in the eyes. "We have bigger problems than these dumb assholes trying to kill us for our stuff. If we want to live with enough people to _handle_ said problems…we can't be too nice."

"A Minuteman has honor." He says, turning to face me as Nick takes the rope from both of our unresisting hands. "A Minuteman has morals. We stand for the people, even these ones."

I walk up close as he speaks and look him in the eye from a few inches away to say, "a _leader_ wouldn't let bandits kill the people under their protection just so they can feel morally superior." And then I gesture behind us toward the wagons where the Ghouls are all standing around one of them, wringing their hands. "And you weren't too worried about _those_ people. Why were these Ghouls who've never hurt you less important to protect than these bandits?" By the end I'm snapping my words off with gritted and bared teeth.

Preston looks away and has a stubborn set to his jaw, so I turn on my heel and walk away.

"I'm getting Stimpaks." I flick my hand up in the air. "We won't waste any on any of them that are too badly hurt. I'm not arguing about it. My supply cache, my settlement, my choice." I'm splitting it with John, of course. Nick didn't want or need any of the stuff we found- aside from a handful of bandages and such he wants to take back to store in his office for Ellie to use.

I'm sure Preston will have a problem with that too. But like I said, I'm the one doing the work and doling out duties at Sanctuary. He's the guy making sure they do it, but that could be done by anyone. I'm kind of hoping to give that job to Vernon so I can take Preston out more often. Maybe force him to grow up a little-

"Uh, miss Valkyrie?" One of the Ghouls is trembling behind the wagon while two others are inside, huddled over another.

"What's going on?" I grab the edge of the wagon and hoist myself inside. "Did you get her a stimpak?"


	23. Hancock POV

Val walks away from the soldier-boy with barely restrained rage written all over her face. She sounded calm while she was talkin', but you can see in her eyes that she doesn't think much of the guy.

She likes him just fine usually, so long as he's not on his judge-y high horse. _Then_ she gets pissed off.

I break off to follow her, in case she needs help. I wouldn't waste a single Stim on these assholes, but I get the feelin' she was right. These guys are too well supplied, well fed and well outfitted to be the only ones of their kind out here. We could learn more with live captives than corpses to search.

She stops at the wagon where the Ghouls were hangin' out and jumps inside after one of 'em talks to her.

I walk up behind and watch as she injects one on the floor of the wagon with a Stimpak. "Why didn't anyone just inject her?"

"We weren't sure we were allowed to use the supplies." A male Ghoul sitting on the opposite side of the girl's body looks like he's cringing back a little.

Val inhales as her eyes close and she breathes slowly out as her body seems to deflate. "The supplies are for Sanctuary. You're citizens of Sanctuary. You're allowed to use the supplies if you need them in crisis situations same as anyone else." She isn't lookin' at any of 'em.

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you ma'am." The male Ghoul beside her leans back as she stands up, and she grasps his shoulder as she climbs over him. The surprise on his face is obvious but only lasts for a few seconds.

"Hand me four Stimpaks." She makes a grabby motion at the one on the other side once she's down out of the wagon.

He scrambles to get the supplies for her and almost drops one in his rush to hand them over, "here."

"Thank you," her tone's subdued. Tired. "Everyone get ready to move, but just…leave her in there. Wrap her up or something, make her comfortable."

I reach out and grab two Stims from her hands. "Come on." I can see she's not feelin' great. First Preston, then the injured Ghoul and now she's gonna have to waste supplies on a bunch of assholes who tried to kill us. "We can use half of one on any of 'em that aren't too bad."

She sighs and turns to walk back toward the corralled men with me. Only four of 'em. We might get away with only usin' two or three Stimpaks instead o' four.

It takes a while to check 'em all over, give 'em enough to keep 'em from bleedin' out and then load 'em all up on a wagon. The whole time, Preston doesn't talk to Val and Val kinda forgets Preston exists in the rush to get everything done.

Valentine knows more about repairin' anythin' than anyone else so he slaps patches over whatever and ties shit together until we can get movin'.

Val put all the assholes in the middle wagon and moved some of the crates to make room for 'em.

"Could you ride with them?" She nods at the asshole-wagon. "I'd make Preston do it, but he's gonna be pissy enough getting home as it is."

I shrug, "no problem. Where are we gonna put 'em in Sanctuary, though?"

"The Vault," She says. "There are rooms down there, I can use the computer to lock the doors."

That surprises me, a little. "Huh. Didn't even think o' that."

"I intended to use it for a bunker in case of attack or a really bad storm…" She shifts and reaches up to scratc at her hair under her hat. "I will after we're through with these assholes…maybe just move the women and children and their families down there, period…"

"Keep the fighters aboveground and the others down below." Nick speaks from behind her and we _both_ jump.

He smirks a little when we glare at him for sneakin' up on us. "Clever."

"Not clever, just…" She huffs. "Just nobody thought of it before me, is all."

"Given enough time, even a fool can be smart." Nick puts a cigarette in his mouth and my hand moves to pull out my lighter and flick the flint before I even realize what I'm doin'.

He chuckles after I light him up and inhales a cloud of smoke. A lot of it escapes his half-gone cheek. "What's clever is figurin' it out _first_."

She shrugs and turns to walk up toward the front where the Ghouls are ridin' the first wagon.

Preston and Nick are on the last in line.

"Make sure there ain't any reason for them to fight anymore, John." Nick blows a cloud of smoke in the air and the smell of it makes me crave one myself. "Don't kill 'em if you can just knock 'em out, but don't let 'em injure you if ya can't."

I chuckle and gesture at the wagon that's on the move at the front. "And don't tell her if they do?"

"You've got an extra Stim, so usually I'd say yes." Nick turns with a quirk to his mouth as he takes another pull off his cigarette. "But I think she'd notice anyway and be pissed off at you hidin' it."

I scoff and take off to get on the wagon before it can start moving.

The three wagons are only bein' pulled by _one_ Brahmin. It was damn lucky we could get it disconnected from the wagon. I mean, we had to cut the ropes so it could run off and corrallin' it was fuckin' hard- but at least it ain't dead.

The wagons are all connected with some scrap wood they musta found in Sanctuary or nearby. Keeps em movin' together with just one Brahmin. We gotta move slow this way, but at least we ain't haulin' the wagons ourselves.

Val was shocked when they showed up with just one Brahmin and asked soldier-boy all kinds of questions about how strong the animals were and if they needed more food than regular 'cows'. Apparently the original versions weren't this hardy.

Climbing up into the Wagon, I flash the assholes a wide grin, revelin' a little in the looks of fear on their faces.


	24. Chapter 24

Midnight demands about ten minutes of attention when I get back. A few pets while I relax on my couch, some face nuzzles and then she scampers off out the door- to beg for food, I think.

Dogmeat spends longer sitting beside me on the couch, head in my lap and tail perpetually wagging. It's cute, but I just can't stand to have that much love directed at me from a creature that depends on me so heavily for its happiness.

So I tossed a treat out the door and told him to go play. He chased after it with a bark so I don't know if he was happy to be sent out or just unconcerned with anything that wasn't the treat.

Mio is too busy getting to know the new people, but I expect once he's done he'll be all over me again.

"So." Nick comes in after I flop on the couch, smoking another cigarette as he sits in the armchair across from me. "When are ya gonna tell John you're in love with him?"

I spasm a little much and end up on the floor, blinking wide eyes up at Nick. "Huh?"

"Don't play dumb, Val. Doesn't suit you." He drawls. "The way you look at him, the way you talk to him- the way you reacted when he went down in that Ambush. The way you fussed at him when we got back until he showed you the new scar from his healed injury?"

I can feel myself turning redder and redder by the second.

"You already knew a lot of what he'd done to take over Goodneighbor, so I figured you'd either been there before or you'd asked around- and we both know you weren't there before." He ticks things off on his fingers, now. "You can't get closer to him than a foot away without shiverin' and stutterin' and turnin' pink…" He smirks a little at that and I can feel myself close to spontaneously combusting. "And I'm pretty sure most of the reason you're so up in arms about the treatment of Ghouls is-"

"I'd be upset about that anyway!" I exclaim, sitting up and poutily glaring at him. "I don't think with my- that isn't why!"

"It isn't why you're like that, but it's why you're so passionate about it, isn't it?" He asks, raising a brow. His golden eyes just…cut me to the quick.

I just press my lips together and huff through my nose. "So what?"

"So…when are you gonna tell him about that?" He asks, sitting back in the armchair and taking a long drag off his cig.

"Never, preferably." I respond, curling up into a ball on the floor. "John isn't the settling-down type and I am _not_ looking to get my heart broken when I could just be near him and have him covering my back without complicating things. And it's not love it's just…infatuation." I know that much, I mean- I haven't even actually known him that long in reality.

"Uh-huh." He huffs in amusement. "You realize most people'd find it hard to see a Ghoul in any way as a romantic object- and to see them as a sexual object, it's usually…well, let's just say it's not usually soft and sweet and tender with Ghouls and Humans."

"I'm sure you're wrong about that." I respond, squeezing my knees to my chest. "I know they're not all as good-looking as John, but that wouldn't hold back people who got to know someone and was halfway decent enough not to care-"

"No one's as decent as you, here." Nick interrupts me, shaking his head and exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Not even ten percent as decent as you."

"John is." I respond immediately. "You are. That's why I wanted your help. And even though Preston can get annoying, he's at least seventy percent moral. I'd say I'm really only thirty percent, but I know you'd argue with me."

He chuckles, "you went after a cat because a little girl was worried a Deathclaw would eat it."

I feel myself flushing again, "that's not morality- anyone not made of stone-"

"Would traipse out into the dangerous wilderness for a cat for no reward but a child's smile?" He asks, lifting a brow and silently challenging me.

"I…" I can remember that neither of them wanted to do it. They thought it was a bad idea to risk their necks for something like that. "You thought that was stupid, so it doesn't count."

"We didn't say 'stupid', kid." He tilts his head at me. "We said it was probably dangerous and- to take a risk for no reward isn't something we're accustomed to."

"So why are you saying it like it's a positive!?" I throw my hands up and flop my head backwards to rest on the couch cushions.

"It is. It just isn't something we've done." He responds, chuckling. "This new world order you're tryin' to build and maintain…maybe it'll be normal there."

I sigh and close my eyes. "Maybe."

"Any other reason you don't wanna tell 'im?" He asks.

"Will you let it go if I give you one?" I ask right back, scowling at the ceiling.

"Maybe, depends if it's a good one." He says.

So I decide to give him _three_ good ones, so he'll drop it.

"Number one reason is: He barely knows me. I'd just creep him out and scare him off. Reason two: I'm too soft and fluffy and nice for him. He needs someone more like him, bloodthirsty and dangerous to keep him happy. I mean, still a good person- but good in the way _he_ is. And reason three…" I purse my lips and huff.

"Reason three?" He prods me, inhaling smoke again.

"I don't even know if I'm even remotely his type for anything. Sex, romantic inclination- I don't even know if we'd make good friends, yet."

"You seem to work as friends just fine from what I've seen," he says. Now blowing the smoke in a long stream upwards.

"We haven't known each other that long, yet." I repeat. "People run into differences and have fights and it's only after you _have_ those fights that you know whether or not you're gonna be in it for the long haul."

"So when I ask you this question again in a couple weeks, a couple months…the answer might change?" he asks, serious as all get-out.

"I dunno, maybe." I respond with reticence. "I doubt it."

"Why is that?" he asks, inhaling smoke once again.

"He's out of my league," I respond mournfully.

Nick chokes on his smoke, for some reason. It sounds like he's trying to smother laughter but I dunno _why_. Yeah, John's a Ghoul, but he's a charming- much sought after- Ghoul.


	25. Hancock POV

"I'm stayin' here. You and Val'll be on the road alone." Nicky and me have never had a hard time understandin' each other. But right now I'm drawin' a blank. "I wanna keep an eye on Preston and the new additions to Sanctuary."

"There's somethin' you ain't tellin' me, Valentine." I say slowly as I pop a mentat in my mouth. "Can't figure out what it's about, but there's somethin'."

"Not my secret to tell," he says. Like that ain't just… "Watch out for her, John. She's learning fast and has the heart to change the world- she just needs support."

"I know," I shrug and sigh. "You sure you wanna leave her in _my_ hands? I ain't exactly the most responsible guy 'round."

"I'd trust you to be responsible enough to kill anything or anyone that tries to hurt her," Nick says. "That's enough for me."

"Heh," I grin. "I can do that."

"Just so long as you point your gun in the right direction," Nick snarks. "Don't overdo it with the Chems, John."

I roll my eyes, "I got it, _dad_."

"Let's go!" Val goes trottin' past with a sniper on her back next to her pack. "You coming, Nick?"

"Not this time, but have fun." Nick smirks at Val.

She huffs and adjusts her hat, "suit yourself."

And then we're off, me grabbin' my pack out of the little house I spent the night in, and then…an hour straight o' silence.

We walk in complete, awkward silence- and the dog came with us this time, so every time it snuffles or whuffs or makes any noise at all, I almost reach back for my shotgun. This is puttin' me on edge, can't take it anymore.

"Hey Val?" I pop a couple more mentats, savoring the flavor dissolving on my tongue to leave behind an aftertaste of grape and a fizzle in my brains. Gotta love that Mentat buzz.

"Hmm?" She glances over at me and blinks languidly. Weird.

"You alright?" she isn't pale- in fact she looks kinda pink. "Shit, are you hot?"

She snorts and adjusts the brim of her hat, "it's hot out, yes."

"No, I mean- damn- is the heat makin' you sick?" I stop and reach out to stop her with a hand on her arm. I can remember the other kids playin' out too long in the sun and just…collapsin'.

"You curse a lot, and no." she replies and ducks her head. "I just get flushed really easily. I'm drinking water and everything-"

"Come on," I curl my fingers around her wrist and tug her behind me into the ruins of an old shop.

"I'm fine, John, really." She says as she follows me, not pullin' away or even really protestin'.

"Indulge me in a short break, Sister." I sit on a bench and tug her down next to me.

She dips her head so her hat will cover her face and fidgets, toes tappin' and her fingers tanglin' together. Like a nervous teenager. Shit, that's cute. After a second, Dogmeat trots over and nudges her leg with his snout, whining.

She jolts a little and gets up to dig around in her pack, setting down that little bowl she uses to give Dogmeat water in and pours a little in for the pooch. He drinks it, but then he nudges her again and sits with his tongue lollin' out o' his mouth. She makes a small noise and says, "oh! Food."

And then she pulls out a whole radroach steak and rips it into little pieces, feedin' 'im about half of it before puttin' the rest away. "Good boy," she coos and reaches out to pet the dog with gentle hands.

Hands that kept grabbin' at my arm after I got shot in that fight with those assholes after the goods we were transportin'. I never been fussed over so much in my life.

I'd be lyin' if I said I didn't enjoy it, a little. I mean, yeah. I can handle myself, and it's a little weird that she gets so worried when she said she wanted me for my fightin' skills. Did she not realize I'd be gettin' a few scuffs and dings? "Why are you so…sweet?"

That actually jus' came outta my mouth.

She looks up at me with wide, startled eyes and her skin turns pinker. Shit, everything she does is cute. "I-. What?"

"I mean, I can understand growin' up in a vault and bein' sheltered from the wasteland's worst- but I mean…bad shit had to have happened to ya at some point. How are you…you?" I fiddle with my lighter, flickin' and shuttin' the cap on it.

"I don't understand the question?" she asks with a raised brow and confusion written all over her face.

I chuckle a little, "you go outta your way for folks. _Far_ outta your way. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's nice. It's…refreshin'. But how did you manage to stay so sweet in this world?"

Her lips part and she pales a little, "I…I didn't grow up in a vault."

I tilt my head and my hand stills on the lighter, "but you're a vaultie?"

"I…came out of one, yes," she says. Then she bites her lip just a little, teeth cutting into the plump pink flesh. "But that isn't where I was born and raised." And then she sighs and closes her eyes, "I'm…pre-war, I guess is the right term…"

I'm starin' at her a little hard, I know. "Pre-war. Like a Pre-war Ghoul?"

"More like someone who was living in a pre-war society and then got frozen for two hundred years- and then woke up in the wasteland," she says. "Sorta."

I just sigh and prop my arms up on the bench back behind me. "Shit."

"Sorry I forgot to tell you that," she's pluckin' at her shorts. "I avoided it when we first met because I just…didn't want to get into it, but…I mean if you're going to be around for a while you should probably know…"

Shaking my head, I chuckle a bit. "So many things just… make so much sense now."


End file.
